


I'll follow you into the dark.

by e_smith



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bisexual Grantaire, Demisexual Enjolras, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Pining, Slow Build, Trans Character, Trans Enjolras, art student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_smith/pseuds/e_smith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a struggling and poor art student who is barely passing his classes and managing to battle with his past alcoholism. His friends Joly, Bousset and Musichetta introduce him to their group Les Amis a ragtag group of queer kids who are set on world change and rebellion. Enjolras and Grantaire struggle to become friends and then both struggle with feeling love for the first time, all as Grantaire struggles to keep his head above water and Enjolras is trying to save a world that is damned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> frankly i was just appalled at the lack of trans enjolras fics also i spend probably 99% of my life thinking abt les amis modern au's so here we go prepare urself for pining and pain  
> tw; past abuse mentions and alcoholism

Grantaire considered himself to be perhaps the single most unlucky person in the whole world. Joly considered him to be perhaps the single most dramatic person in the whole world because of this, but Grantaire stayed adamant that he had a fair point. He did however believe he lucked the hell out when he bet Joly and Bossuet. He was sitting in a cheap and dingy cafe drawing for a class assignment when a shadow fell over his page. Joly was standing there, doe eyes politely fascinated as he said "You're quite good, if you don't mind me saying." This had genuinely surprised Grantaire because he generally wasn't the sort of guy that tiny guys in pink, cat sweaters rolled up to to compliment. It probably had to do with the ink stained fingers, dirty clothes and the distinct cigarette smell that hovered around him.

"Thank you?" He hadn't been sure quite what to think of him standing there looking content and perfectly pleasant.

"Sorry I don't mean to be weird or anything!" he suddenly seemed to realise that his actions might be perceived as kind of odd by the average person "It's just you are very good my friend does poetry and some abstract sorta stuff he'd love this." He gave a shy sort of awkward smile and that's when Grantaire had caught on that he was one of those rare genuinely nice and friendly people. At this time in his life that was pretty rare.

"Oh uh, thank you," there was a weird pause before he said suddenly, sitting up a bit straighter. "I'm Grantaire by the way."

He grinned widely and his whole face seemed to light up like the sun on a cloudy day "Joly."

Joly had then dragged Bousset over and they chatted and they insisted that he meet their poet friend Jehan and their roommate Musichetta. They later found out that Grantaire vaguely did know Musichetta because she was knew his friend Eponine. Small world and all that. Grantaire distinctly remembers looking back just how weird it had been. Jolys easy smiles and stupid puns about birds and whatever. Bossuet's kind comments and clumsy, gentle nature. Even Musichetta who was probably the most punk person Grantaire had ever met she was also a lot better than just about everyone from Grantaire’s past which he supposes is a bit sad. 

He’d grown up in the North and moved into Paris once he turned nineteen to pursue art and get away from his past turbulent life. His dad was a drunk and violent. He left when Grantaire was about ten to pursue drugs and a younger woman. His Mom was hardly around anyway, and had crooked teeth and a nicotine addiction she couldn’t financially sustain. They were never close. At seventeen he went into a foster home and at eighteen went to live with a boyfriend who was a brute on the same level of his dad, and really didn't care much for Grantaire at all. 

It’s quite obvious why he moved here he thinks. 

Despite this Grantaire was a kind man, he was small and quiet sitting in odd haunts in places of the city that weren’t beautiful but well loved and worn. He’d immediately moved into the smallest and cheapest apartment in perhaps all of Paris. It was one room, no bathroom, but a bench with a stove, three cupboards and a “general living area” as the advertisement described it. He slept on a mattress which sat on the floor and usually depended on Joly and Bossuet for food. Before that he would go to different places like shelters or Churches where they “fed the poor” and god did he hate it. It made him feel so pathetic and the way people looked at him was what he really couldn't stand. He was a person not their charity case after all. 

So yes he really did luck out when it came to meeting Joly and the others.


	2. Les Amis de l'ABC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire meets Les Amis  
> tw; smoking

“Really?” Grantaire asks him skeptically raising an eyebrow, and conveying with all his might ‘why the hell are you saying this to me right now.’

“Don’t you dare raise that beautiful, thick, pakistani eyebrow at me Grantaire I’m being serious,” Joly flopped down on the couch next to him looking exasperated, “I really think you might like it okay, I know you're not super into the whole social justice scene and okay Enjolras might be a bit much for you to handle all at once but at least give it a go.”

He refused to look him in the eye, just narrowing his own eyes at the wall and saying “I really feel like I might not enjoy it though, so why take the risk.”

Joly sighed with enough might that there was probably no air left inside his tiny lungs “It’s at a cafe I know you like cafe’s? Jehan will be there and more importantly so will I! You can meet everyone else we’ve told you all about it’ll be great!” He exclaimed happily, before sobering up a little “Look you don’t have to go okay but it might be good for you.”

Grantaire scowled because he knew exactly what Joly meant by that. He constantly lectured him about getting out of the house more often, coming into the living room and announcing “Do you want me to literally have to kick you out on the street just to get you to socialise even a little bit like a normal person.”

Grantaire didn’t know if he was quite ready to be around the fifty shades of gay that was apparently Les Amis. They sounded a bit full on to be real. So he just frowned a little more and said “I don’t know..”

“Pleaaaase I promise it’ll be good, if you hate it you can just draw and sit there quietly and then you never ever will have to go again,” and dammit he chanced a glance at his face and he knew he was gone when he saw those big puppy dog eyes staring at him hopefully.

“Oh my god okay I’ll go, happy?” Joly squealed so loud he could her a faint “What the fuck?” from Musichetta in the other room.

 

~~~

 

The Les Amis de l’ABC congregated once a week in the cafe Musain. It was a reasonably nice cafe hidden away from the buzz of the mainstream and frequent tourist spots. Feuilly apparently worked here and that is how they were able to shut it down early once a week to hold their angry social justice meetings. Grantaire didn’t really know what he was meant to be expecting walking in to the cafe.

What he did see was the beginnings of the meeting, a strange assortment of people all grouped together, a small man with light brown curls and a wicked smile seemed to be telling some sort of wild and dramatic story as they came in. He stopped when he saw him exclaiming “Ah! My dears, my loves, my Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta and handsome friend!” He lept from his seat and hastily made his way over to Grantaire. His smile was huge seeming to take up his whole face and his dimples seemed well worn. He leaned in grabbing him by the collar of his coat and giving him a big smack of a kiss on each cheek before leaning back, “Nice to meet you, I’m Courfeyrac”

“Grantaire,” he said with an unsure grin.

He was then briefly dragged around by Joly and he was introduced to everybody at the table. Joly said with a frown “We’re just missing… hang on are we missing ‘Ferre and Enjolras? That’s not like them.”

“They’re probably saving orphans from a burning building right this second,” said Musichetta leaning back in her chair. “God knows it’ll be nothing normal like “forgot the time” with those two.” She rolled her eyes but her lips were quirked.

The tables were set up in a way that seemed to look like a classroom, and just like he had done in high school Grantaire took the seat furthest to the back but also closest to the door. Jehan spun around a smile lighting up their face as they said softly “Good to see you here.”

He returned the smile “Thanks, it’s nice to see a familiar face,” he looked around the chatting students briefly, hating to admit that he was a bit intimidated by the group although they all seemed pleasant enough “It’s a decent sized group you have yourselves here.”

Jehan opened their mouth to respond but at that time the door was flung open and two men caught up in what looked like a very involved discussion came through the door. If it wasn’t for the polite way the taller man with a stock of dark curls politely opened the door and the blonde one wearing a red coat paused his sentence to say “thank you” you would almost think they were arguing with one another. Courfeyrac turned around at their arrival with a smirk “And where have you two been?”

“Sorry Courf,” said the taller man with a smile as he leaned in giving him a peck on the lips, “Our class ran a bit later than we thought and our lecturer was absolutely amazing so we just had to stay to ask him some questions honestly it was-” He stopped suddenly then looking a bit embarrassed “Uh yeah it was good, sorry for being late everyone.” Grantaire noticed how the chatter had subsided quite a bit and a few people had pulled out what looked like folders or a laptop.

The two of them shed their coats and scarves throwing them haphazardly on the floor or across the tables, their discussion seemed to be paused for now. The blonde one looked around seemingly rather content until his eyes fell on Grantaire, his forehead crinkled in confusion “Who are you?”

“I’m Grantaire? I’m friends with Joly,” He shifted in his seat a little, it was hard to stay still with his inquisitive eyes staring at him so intently.

He nodded and said “Okay then let’s get started, Cossette?” A small korean, girl with bubblegum pink hair looked away from a goofy looking boy, and started to gather some papers.

The rest of the meeting was kinda uneventful, Cosette stood and was talking about some recent laws to do with something or rather in America. It was kind of like a mini-lecture people would raise their hands and ask things or talk about whatever (occasionally people would ignore the hands up system and just yell.) Cossette was shy but a good speaker and seemed quite funny if you knew what she was actually talking about (“And I know what you’re all thinking ‘what about intersectionality’” then everyone laughs. Probably some sorta weird social justice meme?) Grantaire for his part sat there and tried to settle into the new environment and get a sense for the new people.

After it seemed to be winding down the air of the meeting became more relaxed, Combeferre took center stage and spoke to them “Okay so last thing who has a topic for next week? And also who’s coming out for drinks after this?”

Enjolras said “Me and not me.”

“Right that’s it then guys, good meeting see you all next week.”

Joly got up and came to him immediately, looking like he was buzzing a bit “Do you wanna go out? It’ll probably be a lot more fun than this, less angry feminist ranting, I mean not no angry feminist ranting but marginally less.” Jehan overheard and laughed at that giving Musichetta a distinct look.

Grantaire put his coat on and he didn't want to be rude but this was a lot more than he really knew how to handle in one night, “Maybe next time? I think I need to go home.”

Joly looked slightly alarmed then “Oh! Sorry yes of course you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to I just-”

Grantaire interrupted his apologetic ramble “No, no it’s fine but my favourite shows on at eight I wouldn't wanna miss it.”

Joly rolled his eyes leaning back on his cane “You don’t have a tv Grantaire.”

“I don’t? Shit that’s gonna make it really hard then isn’t it,” He gave him that private sort of smirk and Jolly gave him a hearty laugh in return which only proves that he really doesn’t have a very selective sense of humour.

“Alright enjoy staring at your wall imaging your tv show then, I’ll see you soon,” He turned around to check Musichetta and Bousset were still milling around (which they were as Courf and Musichetta seemed to be arguing about what bar to go to, while the other were sorting out car pools.) “You don’t need a lift do you?”

“No no I’ll get the bus it’ll be fine, go have fun.”

Joly gave him one last look then a brief farewell kiss on the cheek before leaving with the others (Musichetta won the argument which didn’t surprise Grantaire in the least since Musichetta could probably break one of Courf’s arms in a snap if she was so inclined.)

Grantaire trailed out behind them and bid farewell to the others with a wave of his hand, before shoving it back hastily in his coat. As he did so he touched the crumpled cigarette packet he had there which reminded him of how he was itching to have a smoke. He didn’t want to in the meeting with everyone around because he’d only just met them and he didn’t really want to already make a bad impression. Let the bad impressions come in time was his motto.

He leant against the Musain taking out his lighter in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He lit it with cold, pale hands. It was a familiar motion which was good because there wasn’t much familiar about tonight for him. He'd known when he moved here he’d have to eventually make friends or at least know some people. But they really weren’t what he was expecting at all. From genderless poet Jehan, to Combeferre with his calm presence and strong morals. They were about as far from anyone he knew where he came from as possible. Which really he supposes is a good thing, just something he’d need to adjust to.

He was almost finished with his cigarette when a disheveled looking Enjolras came back around the corner looking grumpy and holding keys in his hands. He looked up and seemed surprised “Oh,” he stopped where he was just in front of the door “What are you doing here?”

Grantaire wishes he wasn’t smoking right now, as he felt slightly like a naughty child being caught by a parent. Plus Enjolras seemed like the sorta guy that probably drinks a glass of red wine for his health and that’s about it for living on the wild side. He sighed internally at himself and said “Just having a smoke.”

Enjolras blinked and said “Yeah that uh, makes sense,” he shifted on his feet and seemed almost like he was actually feeling a little awkward. “I forgot my phone,” he said suddenly continuing just to stare at him not exactly expectantly but just, staring.

“Are you… gonna get it or?”

“Yes,” he stood a little straighter “Yes I’m getting my phone.” He then turned away from him to unlock the door and slipped inside the dim and packed up cafe. He reemerged a second later holding a very fancy looking phone and looking less confused than before.

He surveyed him and said “Has Joly given you the smoking lecture yet?”

He smiled a little and said “Uh yeah I didn’t know the guy was studying to be a nurse when I made the mistake though to be fair. I now own at least five pamphlets on quitting and like a million packs of nicotine gum.”

Enjolras seemed a little more relaxed now and let out a little huff of amusement “Yeah that sounds like him alright.” His smile was undoubtedly fond though. “How’re you getting home? Like do you have a car or something?” He looked him over again and said “Or a motorcycle, I can imagine how much Joly would love that.”

Grantaire laughed and said “No I’m a bit too poor for either of those, I’ll be catching a bus or something. I don’t live too far or anything.”

“What side of town do you live on?”

He took the final drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground, into a puddle. “The shit side.”

Enjolras frowned and said “I don’t think there really is a shit side of Paris.”

He leant against the building still but turned more towards him “I guess, it is a nice city.” He didn’t really want to fight with the guy who seemed to be the leader of the group in their first conversation. But privately Grantaire thinks that he’d think different if he knew that Grantaire had to share one bathroom with the whole floor in his apartment building. By the looks of the guy he probably has like a “study room” or something wherever he lives.

“Are you going to be coming next week?” He said interrupting Grantaire’s train of thought.

He gave a small shrug “I don’t know if the saving the world stuff is really for me but yeah I might do.”

This really seemed to surprise Enjolras he frowned and opened his mouth but there was a sudden tooting noise and Enjolras seemed shocked back into reality. “I should go ‘Ferre and Feuilly are waiting…”

“Okay,” he gave a sort of unsure smile “I’ll see you next week then”

  
Enjolras went to turn but gave him a final look before saying thoughtfully “Yeah, see you next week Grantaire.”


	3. Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; smoking, alcoholism vaguely?

After that Grantaire does end up going to meetings regularly, in fact he hasn’t missed one since. Joly is overjoyed even though everytime he is invited out for drinks afterwards he denies politely giving the same old “maybe next week.”

He’s getting to know everyone a bit better as well and he decides that they are definitely the weirdest people Grantaire has ever met but also maybe the best. Bahorel who has matching bubblegum pink hair with Cosette does boxing and when Grantaire says how he used to box Bahorel immediately tells him that they should go to his gym sometime soon and, to quote him “knock the shit out of each other, in a friendly way.” Enjolras seems to not like the interruptions to his meetings but has seemed to realise once everyone knows Grantaire he can finally run a meeting smoothly without Marius turning around and saying “Wait was that spanish? Do you speak spanish? That’s so cool, I love languages for one I-” They all seem very infatuated with his slightly glammed up story of moving to Paris to pursue art. He left out all the bits that are less slumdog millionaire. Enjolras himself rarely asks Grantaire questions, but he does pause his conversations to politely listen about where he grew up or how he met Joly.

He’d been going for three weeks when everyone seemed to have got a handle on him now, and the day before the meeting on the third week he’d actually met them all out for lunch (all except Feuilly because he was working, Bossuet, Courfeyrac because they were in class and Bahorel because “I’m busy ;)” as he had said in a text. It went strangely well, it was nice to go to the Musain and have nobody taking notes on what the others were saying. Enjolras wore a black turtle neck and got a coffee that seemed to basically be like injecting pure caffeine straight into your heart. Not that Grantaire was paying attention. If you had asked Enjolras though he could have easily told you Grantaire wore a green sweater with a hole in the sleeve and drunk his coffee as black as his hair. Not that Enjolras would admit this even to himself though.

Joly told a story about how he once broke into the otter inclosure in the zoo with Bousset because he “really wanted to pat those tiny water cats”. He wouldn’t admit if alcohol was involved or not but Grantaire strongly suspected it. Halfway through lunch Grantaire had to get up for a smoke and Joly was still talking about how bad it is for your lungs when he got back. Grantaire just shrugged “Nobody's perfect, at least I don’t leave gum underneath desks in school, those are the real villains here Joly.”

Afterwards he went back to his apartment, kicked off his shoes and fell down on his mattress and slept until ten the following morning. By the time he had to wait for a free time slot in the bathroom for a shower and he’d eaten it was practically time to go to the Musain anyway. That third meeting he spent sleepily doodling the back of Courf’s curls or Cosette's small hands. Joly drove him back to his apartment block and he went straight to bed, at nine thirty like a grandpa. The sudden amount of socialising he was doing was catching up to him a little bit and in those moments lying in bed just before waking the strangest thing to him was the lack of a hangover. He could never describe just how weird it is to wish you had a hangover.

It was on the fourth week when Enjolras did finally ask him a question. Him and Cosette were walking through the doors and Enjolras was sitting near the front his hair all wild blonde hair and dark roots pushed back by a black headband. He had a pen dangling out of his mouth and was typing furiously although he had a personal grudge against the keyboard and was slowly trying to stab it with his fingers. When Grantaire came to sit down, he looked up and gave him that same look he had last week which was just one of mild surprise, like when you reach for a fork but pull out a spoon. A sort of ‘Oh gosh that’s not where I thought that would be!”

He’s used to it by now, the up and down and the turned up nose the ‘what is someone like you doing here’. And that really fucked him off, because wasn’t he supposed to be all virtuous and moral so he just snapped “What?”

Enjolras looked at him in surprise and confusion “What?” He repeated in confusion.

Grantaire squared his jaw in anger before saying stiffly “Nothing,” fuck he hated that look. His skin felt itchy and he suddenly felt like he needed to scream or, fuck what he really needed was a drink, a lot of drinks.

Enjolras frowned and opened his mouth as if to ask him if everything was alright or perhaps ‘what the hell is your problem’. But Marius bless him oblivious as ever started to talk about animal cruelty and Enjolras reluctantly turned around to listen.

It was easily the worse meeting they had ever had in Grantaire’s mind, he sat there slumped over his table, Joly sending him the odd confused and concerned look. He jiggled his leg angrily and resisted the urge to get up and smoke away his whole new pack of cigarettes. Enjolras sat with his laptop open but didn't type a thing the whole lesson, just sitting there with tense shoulders. Combeferre concluded the meeting and Grantaire was already halfway out the door.

Four weeks that’s how long it took him to fuck this up. This would be the last Friday afternoon he’d spend here because he’d already blown it. He could hardly even stand the thought of it and he took out the pack of cigarettes. He hated it all, how poor he was and how Enjolras and his big beautiful eyes didn’t like him at all. He hated how he was barely more happy now than he had been before moving to Paris. He leant up against the side of a wall around the corner from the cafe and started to smoke his first cigarette.

After a moment he heard a soft “Grantaire?” Enjolras was standing at the corner looking concerned and uncertain. Grantaire was fairly surprised to see him there to say the least, he didn’t have any of his things which means he must have left them to follow him. Grantaire hadn’t imagined that Enjolras or anyone else would care enough to try and find him that’s why he’d only gone around the corner. Enjolras came up to him and said softly “Do you mind?” Grantaire shook his head softly and so Enjolras lent against the wall next to him.

“What did I do?” he finally asks.

Grantaire sighs “Nothing okay it's just that,” he paused considering whether or not telling him would make it worse. “Everytime I come into the Musain you give me this look like you're shocked that I’m here.”

Enjolras took a small breath then said softly “I just don't understand why you come you don’t even seem to enjoy coming here.”

Grantaire scowled and said “I do

“I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I don’t want you here, because I do,” he said hurriedly. “It’s just you don’t really seem to like it at all. Like the others they all have a genuine passion for social justice, they talk about it or take notes or whatever. You just kinda sit in the back and don’t talk to anyone unless they talk to you first. Sometimes you make puns? Or kinda bad sarcastic jokes, but that’s about it. I just,” he paused for a moment as if taking care with his words “I don’t understand why you come if you don’t like it, I mean you can hang out with everyone another time? Or find some less nerdy friends or whatever.” Grantaire did snort at this which seemed to relax Enjolras a bit “And I’m really sorry if I acted badly towards you I just, I do like it and I like it a lot.” He shifted uncomfortably next to him unnerved by how silent Grantaire was.

Grantaire was a bit taken aback “I know you do Enjolras,”

Enjolras asked very gently “I mean, why do you come?”

He considered it for a moment set on telling the truth to him “Maybe I just like how much you guys all like it?” Enjolras nodded thoughtfully. “Listen I’m sorry for snapping at you it’s not even like it was a big deal okay I’ve just had a rough,” he paused, a rough week? Month? Couple of years? The latter was probably the most truthful but also kinda depressing. “I’ve just had a rough time okay? And I’m sorry I took that out on you.”

Enjolras smiles and says “It’s okay I mean you hardly even said anything Grantaire.” He scowls a little bit but in a cute way not a scary way “I’ve heard a lot worse from people.”

His lips twitch “Like what?”

“Once I was trying to buy a one direction cake, for Courf, but this woman refused to serve me because I had “the devil in my eyes”.” he recalled a small smile tugging at the corner of this mouth.

“Oh my God-”

“I know.”

“Oh my God.”

~~

After that things ran a lot smoother between them. Grantaire brought a sketch pad and would sketch everyone mid heroic rant, and occasionally break up the serious atmosphere of the Musain with some sarcasm or a sexual innuendo. Enjolras seemed reasonably at peace with this unless it was poorly timed and Grantaire knew not to push it because this was something important to him. They had all struck a nice balance together that soon became familiar and comfortable between them all.

Enjolras despite seeming to have initially resisted out of politeness now seems to think Granaire fair bait for discussions. He’d pull him into a range of different subjects and Grantaire soon learned that watching Enjolras discuss something he had strong opinions about with someone else was entirely different from being that person. He learned quickly that he loved it. Enjolras’s eyes would look like they were glowing with heavenly wrath and Grantaire could destroy his argument with a Harry Potter quote. He enjoyed pulling vague references from things such as; Parks and Rec, various memes, Lord Byron, Harry Potter obviously and Kurt Vonnegut. Enjolras seemed bewildered and reluctantly impressed with how quickly he could quote beautiful French literature then quickly switch to some sort of bizarre die hard quote which he would act out enthusiastically.

Joly had noticed and brought it up one day when they were playing video games. He looked at him slyly out of the corner of his eye saying “You and Enjolras have been getting along well…”

Grantaire had a feeling he knew where this was going and said stoically “No comment.”

Joly furiously whacked every button his fingers could reach while saying conversationally “It’s so nice to see you coming out of your shell.”

“Speaking of shells,” he says as he ruthlessly releases a blue shell.

Musichetta screams in anguish “Mario you Italian BASTARD!”

Despite how Joly has been giving him secret winks as Enjolras comes to sit next to him it has been kind of amazing. At Jehans poetry reading they sat side by side and discussed both French literature and art. Enjolras to Grantaire’s delight and surprise actually knew quite a bit about French art because it had so much to do with French History, of which he was largely in love with. The atmosphere was very nice and about as hipster as you could possibly make something. It was also quite crowded so their thighs were pressed right up against each other. Grantaire said with a smirk “I’m sorry but explain to me again how the Realists are so amazing Enjolras, the guy who is actually studying art has forgotten.”

Enjolras scowled at him “You know you’re not giving them enough credit Grantaire, it’s just downright rude. “Manet is the only good Realist” is rubbish, you know he’s the least Realist of them all. How about Millet he paints the real people of the nation Grantaire. Grantaire. I honestly don’t know why you don’t understand it Grantaire.”

He loved that when Enjolras was getting frustrated he would start to say his name every second word to make him pay attention “Sorry, I mean I get the idea of it but it has been executed better by other artists in different movements. Plus you can’t tell me you don’t like Romantics before them okay you are basically a walking modern day “Liberty Leading the People” alright.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to retort but Joly had come over and said “What coffees do you guys want?”

Enjolras looked mildly annoyed at the interruption “Just get whatever has the most caffeine and a black coffee,” before turning back towards Grantaire and saying “I never said I didn’t like the Romantics it’s just-” But all Grantaire can think about is that Enjolras had remembered how he drinks his coffee.

Eventually they get back into it and what must have been an hour later Combeferre had to tap on Enjolras’s shoulder and say “It’s over guys, you have to leave now.”

They continued the discussion all the way outside and as everyone was saying goodbye then suddenly it seemed to dawn on Enjolras that they weren’t actually going to be able to keep arguing about what the true heart of France really was so he said suddenly “Do you want my phone number?”

Grantaire blinked in surprise and said “Um… yes?” Enjolras produced a pen from his pocket and grabbed Grantaire’s hand and began to write it down “Are you feeling okay? Do you need to go to a hospital?”

Enjolras finished with a flourish and whacked him in the shoulder although there was a tint of pink on his cheeks that Grantaire could just detect in the low light. “Don’t be stupid and don’t forget to text me because this is so not over.”

Amazing was all Grantaire could think faintly, absolutely amazing.


	4. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; smoking, alcohol, past abuse mentions vaguely, and a super super vague suicide mention (not even a sentence) and nightmares

Everything wasn’t immediately perfect between Enjolras and Grantaire though. Enjolras seemed to often get increasingly frustrated with how little he cared for politics or social justice of any kind. He’d look up from his drawings sometimes and find Enjolras just staring at him looking confused and mildly grumpy, and then he’d immediately turn back away.

And things for Grantaire did seem to be taking a turn for the worse. Although he was managing to keep on top of his art assignments for now because of the added encouragement from Joly he was so out of money it was kind of ridiculous. Who moves to a foreign city with only one connection to anybody, with no money, pursuing a career in an improbable field? He feared that he’d soon be kicked out if his apartment and he really didn’t know where to go or what to do then. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta would take him in within a heartbeat but they had a nice little flat together and he didn’t really want to intrude on that. Also he really didn’t want to be in anymore debt to them that he already was. He was practically surviving off them for any decent meal he may eat and his lack of food had started to make him feel drowsy and faint as it was.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said sharply in a way that made it clear that he’d said it before and was starting to get annoyed with him.

He rubbed a hand over his eye “Yeah sorry, what’s wrong?” He’d come to the Musain with Courfeyrac and his boyfriend Combeferre a couple hours early to relax and he hadn’t been aware that Enjolras was coming at all until he’d trailed in after Combeferre with snowflakes settling on his lashes. Grantaire wasn’t literally brain dead, he knew he kind of had a small thing for Enjolras but it was hardly like it mattered. He was all conviction and justice paired with a beautiful face with a constellation of freckles, nothing was happening there that’s for sure. Grantaire looked like your average dumpster diving homeless man and smelt like an ashtray. Definitely not happening.

Most of Grantaire’s relationships had been with women that were equally as fucked up as he was or with men ten times as fucked up as he was. He didn’t like to think about it at all, one of the reasons he moved to Paris was to get a fresh start from all of that.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were a good couple though and he told them so as they ordered coffee and Grantaire politely declined one. “How’d you guys even meet and stuff?”

Courf smiled and said “It’s so boring really, he was a friend of Enjolras, so was I. We kinda had some mutual crushing and flirting going on and I had to hint so hard to get him to finally catch on that I liked him. For six months I just thought he wasn’t interested.”

“Hint?” he asked with a smirk, unable to imagine Courfeyrac being subtle in anyway.

“I literally danced up on him while wearing basically nothing and he didn’t get the hint it was terrible, like jesus christ how dumb can you get,” he smiled fondly at this turning to Combeferre who was blushing slightly and rolling his eyes. “And to think with all those brains you can't figure out that lap dances equal love.”

“To be fair,” Combeferre interrupted “You do dance up on everybody practically naked it’s kind of just an important part of your personality at this point.”

“Touche.”

The food and coffees arrived then and Grantaire just leaned back feeling a bit awkward when he didn’t have anything of his own.“What about you Grantaire?” Courf asked turning around to him blowing on his drink, “Anyone special in your life?” He gave gives shoulders and eyebrows a little suggestive wiggle.

He snorted giving a firm “No.”

Courf slumped in disappointment “Oh come on give me something.”

“I literally know only one other person in all of Paris, you know that right? Also what do you think I’m hiding from you? Ten secret juicy love affairs?”

Courf snorted but then paused for a minute “Wait how long have you been here?”

“Almost two years, why?”

“And you literally only know us and one other person? You know there are like a billion other people in Paris right, like after two years you totally should have ten love affairs happening,” Courf shook his head “Disappointing Grantaire.” Then his eyes lit up “Ooh! I could set you up!”

Grantaire rolled his eyes “I’m not really interested, thanks though.” He suddenly really didn’t feel like talking about his love life, “What about you Enjolras, I’m sure half of the population of Paris wants a piece of you, women falling to your feet everywhere you go. Must be such a hard life.”

Enjolras scowled and said “No,” hunching up his shoulders in an almost defensive way.

Combeferre injected “Enjolras has been single since forever, Courf has (unknowingly on Enjolras’s side at the time) set him up on four blind dates, and he felt too bad to just leave.”

Grantaire thought this was amazing but Enjolras looked sour “And that’s not including the two times he’s sent a hooker to my apartment.”

“Umm I have sent one hooker to your place a long time ago, also a stripper, that’s completely different okay don’t exaggerate. Also they were perfectly lovely even though you were rude to them I’ll have you know.” Courf didn’t look impressed and neither did Enjolras, and Grantaire feels like this is an argument they have definitely had before.

“Yes they were great people until they started to take their clothes off,” he was scowling at the memory “Do you feel no remorse? I was so startled that one time I almost called the police.”

“Yeah I know because you called Combeferre instead,” he turns to Grantaire now “Okay I do feel kinda bad about this but when I didn't’ know Enjolras very well and thought it might help his kinda headstrong personality if he got laid,” Enjolras choked a little bit on his coffee “Anyway I sent a hooker to his house and he started to say all this stuff-”

“Wait it was a male hooker?” Grantaire asked in confusion.

“Of course, but don’t interrupt. And anyway Enjolras was so startled that he slammed the door in his face, locked it, then called Combeferre.” Courf sighed “I feel bad but it really was kind of amazing okay.”

Enjolras sunk further into his seat “I didn’t talk to him for a month afterwards.”

Grantaire shook his head “That’s amazing, I don’t know how you people are real half the time I swear. Wait.” he said suddenly remembering “so when did you order a stripper?”

“His birthday of course! It was a sexy fireman as well, very tasteful.”

 

~~~

 

The money situation was becoming dire. He eventually called Eponine and asked her to come over to his apartment for the first time in months. She arrived promptly with a bottle of wine in one hand and a small can of mace in the other. “Hello dear,” she said with a smile coming into his room, the smile dropped away “Fucking hell this place is still just as shit as it was when you got it, I thought you might have glammed it up a bit since then.”

She busted open the bottle of wine and out of two chipped tea mugs they sat on the floor and drank. Eponine had been doing well, she’d just got custody over her brother who was eight. She worked as a banker and was keeping herself out of any sort of problems to insure that her brother Gavroche had the best life with her possible. When it came to how he was doing Grantaire shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m actually doing kinda poorly money wise lately,” he confessed.

She took an obvious look around the room “No shit.”

He rolled his eyes before asking her perhaps a little awkwardly “I was actually wondering if you know how I could get some money coming in?”

Then she rolled her eyes “You mean besides the standard way which is, by the way, getting a job.”

“You know I got fired last time I tried that, plus having that much of an income wasn’t good for me none of it went towards rent anyway.”

She gave him a knowing sort of look “How are you doing with that?”

“This is the first drink I’ve had in a while but that’s only because I can’t afford shit, I had to steal a pack of cigarettes the other day.” He let out a sigh “I just need some money okay enough to keep me afloat but not too often or it all just gets spent on booze.”

She lent back, taking a sip of wine and sighing “God you break my heart Grantaire. I’ve managed to sort myself out because of Gavroche but you don’t have siblings so how are you ever gonna quit this, like for real I mean not in the sort of way you planned to two years ago but never quite got there, because I worry about you I really do.”

Grantaire shrugged not really knowing how he was meant to answer that because he didn’t really know. Eponine sighed finally “I know some street fights this week you could go to? If you're still a scrappy little shit like you were in high school you can get something for it at least.” She gave him an obvious look over. “You could eat a decent meal, or maybe get some new shoes or some shit man.”

He grinned “Thanks Ep.”

“I’m telling Musichetta to start feeding you more by the way you’re looking far too gaunt for my liking,” she declared lying down properly on the floor with her head resting on Grantaire’s mattress.

He groaned “They already feed me enough, plus sometimes I basically live in their apartment.”

“Good! Because this is a shithole even for you, I mean seriously this is a new standard of low. And I’m talking compared to that one place you lived in as well, with that crack head Nate or some shit?”

“Alec? Yeah that place sucked, this is a dream compared to that. Or I don’t know they might be almost even” She made a doubtful humming noise. “Yeah okay I know but you did happen to see it under pretty bad circumstances.”

A sort of sad and heavy silence had started to settle its way into the room remembering that. He said softly “So where are these street fights?”

Eponine told him and he made plans in his mind of how to get there, it was on a saturday which would hopefully give his face enough time to heal before the next Les Amis meeting if he truly got the shit beaten out of him. They said a tipsy goodbye as Eponine called herself a cab.

Grantaire loved Eponine, they’d known each other since they were around fifteen because they were both starting to run around some bad circles together. Grantaire quickly learnt that among all the half witted stoners and dropkicks she was the only one with half a brain on her. They had each others backs for all of highschool, always saying where they were going and who with. They went to prom together as friends and despite both of their doubts they loved it. Grantaire likes to look back on that day and think that despite all the stuff he regrets about his high school years he never regrets Eponine.

But despite this she did (through no fault of her own) often bring about memories which he would rather forget. Alec was a long time ago and a long way away and that was something he had to keep reminding himself. He had good people around him now and that's what’s important. He didn’t want to stay here alone that night with the taste of wine on his tongue and memories he’d rather forget in his head, so he called Joly. He barely got the words “could you come pick me up so I can stay over at your place” out before Joly was excitedly telling him yes and that he can try his new grilled cheese recipe. Grantaire didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t really think there were multiple grilled cheese recipes so he settled for “that’d be nice”.

He did have to admit it was a good grilled cheese sandwich, almost as good as the pancakes he can make while laughing at Bossuet's baking puns (He points to the baking pan saying ‘Phew look at that hot pan,” then at Joly “An even hotter pan!”) He liked their apartment it was very homey, with lots of pictures and possessions scattered everywhere. Grantaire often mused that his own flat looked awfully like a small room in an abandoned hospital in comparison. That kinda sucked but it made him happier to look at the small bits of himself which had begun leaking into their apartment, like a green dinosaur toothbrush (“It’s even better for your each because dinosaurs!”) and many drawings pinned to walls and kitchen appliances. They even kept a small blanket for him which he slept under on their couch which was actually plenty big enough for him.

This particular night he lay awake for hours just thinking, at one point he had to get up and go on their small balcony to smoke because he felt too restless and needed to do something. When he finally did sleep he dreamt restlessly of a tight hand grip on his arm, a bottle of pills, someone screaming. He awoke giving out a strangled cry and looked around the room in panic not knowing where he was in the darkness for a second. Suddenly in a way that almost made it even worse the lights were flicked on and he felt like he could hardly breathe. Joly's touch on his shoulder was soft and gentle, and he crouched beside him saying soft words again and again “It’s okay Grantaire, it’s okay.”

When Grantaire calmed down he got him a coffee and they sat next to each other on the couch in silence. Bossuet and Musichetta hadn’t come out so he assumed Joy had told them to stay which Grantaire appreciated. After a moment he hesitantly put his head down on Joly’s shoulder, to which Joly then put his arm around him holding him there securely.

They sat there together until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tune it next week for some drama and more enjolras interactions


	5. The Boxer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras refuses to admit obvious infatuation, and Grantaire gets some money  
> tw; violence/ fighting, blood

Grantaire wasn’t here. Enjolras wasn't trying to notice it but he did (to be fair he would notice if anyone was absent from his meetings). It was hardly like Grantaire interjected anything useful into the debates or anything but it seemed awfully strange for him to not be there. It had been about a month since Grantaire had started to coming and it already seemed routine and normal. Joly looked tired like he wasn’t very focussed and he can’t help but wonder if something bad has happened.

Enjolras sits with his head resting in his hand staring off through the frosted windows of the Musain with a small frown on his face. He can imagine Grantaire out there lighting a cigarette with cold hands, his curls dancing around him and shoulders hunched. The sound of scraping chairs and laptops closing made him look around. The meeting was coming to a close and everyone was heading home.

“Joly,” he said softly before he’d left, and Joly turned around to him as the room started to empty out, “Where’s Grantaire?”

Joly gave a small sigh “I don’t know he had a rough day yesterday,” he paused thoughtfully “maybe you should call him or something, being sarcastic will probably make him feel better.” Enjolras just nods a little absently in response to that but he was already forming a text in his mind.

As he was leaving he typed out “where r u? everything ok?” and sent it to Grantaire. He put his hand and his phone back in his pocket and continued to walk quickly back to his apartment which wasn’t far from the Musain. He felt it vibrate in his hand and he pulled it out to read.

“yea im fine dont worry abt it,” Enjolras frowned at the screen as if trying to scare it into saying something better. He guesses that Grantaire was just having an off day, at the same time he got a text from courf;

 **from;** courf [kiss emoji, dancing man emoji]

_U txting ur bae ?? ;))_

**to;** courf [kiss emoji, dancing man emoji]

_piss off idk what ur talking abt and even if i did u would be wrong_

**from;** courf [kiss emoji, dancing man emoji]

_B~) (he’s winking under his sunglasses)_

Enjolras sighed aloud and put his phone away for good, he can only handle so much of Courf trying to imagine a love life for him in one day. The first couple of weeks Grantaire started showing up all Courf would do is text him live commentary of how much he was apparently staring at him and visa versa. He didn’t know how he felt about Grantaire to be honest, he was a nice guy he thinks but he just tried to hide that for some absurd reason. He was also very stubborn and didn’t have any belief in trying to change things for the better which was infuriating. He also seemed to be a walking library, calling himself stupid yet quoting literature Enjolras had never even heard of in the same breath. That’s the thing Enjolras hated the most, how little he cared for himself. He saw the packs of cigarettes and the way he never really ate anything substantial. It was all completely infuriating.

His pocket vibrated.

 **from;** grantaire

_i have read the iliad three times but i still have no idea what the play cats is abt?? is it even abt cats (the animals)??_

**from;** grantaire

_Do u like cats? i can’t imagine you do, they r too morally grey_

**to;** grantaire

_i think ive seen cats and i dont even know what its abt, also cats are not only morally grey but they dont have any morals to begin with_

**from;** grantaire

_that is so sad i feel like u need a cat in ur life maybe u will feel more fulfilled that way_

And a second later;

 **from;** grantaire

_not that ur not fulfilled!!! it's jsut everyone needs a lil kitty cat in their lives_

**to;** grantaire

_if u say so.. i had no idea u feel so strongly abt cats. My apologies_

**from;** grantaire

_i have strong opinions on every animal ever in the whole of existence, test me enj there is no animal that i dont have a very strong feeling about in the whole animal kingdom._

Enjolras had reached home now and kicked off his shoes with a small smile of his face, he put his stuff away before flopping on his couch and texting.

 **to;** grantaire

_anteater_

And that was basically how the rest of his evening went, texting grantaire various types of animals and receiving vivid and details replies. He had no idea why Grantaire knew this much about animals but he had to give it to him he was certainly opinionated. And this was what he loved the most when he struck on something that Grantaire really cared about. I mean Grantaire was definitely doing this primarily for a laugh but sometimes Enjolras would mention by chance a place or artist and it was like Grantaire would suddenly come alive. Also as it turns out Grantaire knew a lot about penguins and quoted March of the Penguins about seven times even when talking about other animals. Which was even more impressive because Enjolras knew that Grantaire didn’t have a computer so this was all from memory. Was it impressive? Probably not, it was probably very lame but Enjolras was as it turns out is kinda a fan of the very lame.

 

~~~

 

Saturday was here and as the night was falling across Paris Grantaire was getting ready to leave. He lit a cigarette as he closed his apartment door and locked it (not that there is anything worth stealing in there anyway, god forbid they steal his hello kitty mug). He was anxious and wondering what the crowd was going to be like. He did similar things years before but had never been street fighting in Paris. Street fighting was fairly self explanatory, a crowd of people would gather and people would place bets then they would fight. It was similar to boxing except gritter and less legal. Grantaire wasn't scared of being hit really, he knew by this point in his life that he could take it, he just hoped that he could actually win something and maybe get to keep a roof over his head. He’d get a job but with his large amount of portfolio work paired with always feeling mentally unwell or uneasy didn’t really go together with keeping a job.

When he arrived at the backstreet that that Eponine had directed him to there were already a decent crowd forming and money beginning to be exchanged between people. He signed up to fight and then stood in the crowd waiting to get picked. The Paris fighters seemed less scrappy then in the North, less like they wanted to hurt you in a personal way. There were clean blows and even a couple handshakes. Finally the guy that seemed to be in charge pointed at him and another smaller guy and it was his turn.

The crowd was in a reasonably large circle around them and was starting to get rowdy. He had to take off his jacket and hoodie and so did the other guy. They gave each other a brief nod before there was a whistle indicating they were to start.

He danced around the guy and was starting to agitate him. Not only did Grantaire do boxing while growing up but also ballet and he enjoyed bringing some grace into fighting, and some brutality and desperation into dancing. The other guy was slightly bigger than him and the crowd was getting hungry for a first hit. Grantaire lunged and struck him like a cobra, aiming for speed not necessarily knocking him out in one hit.  The crowd howled with pleasure as he wiped the blood from his nose.

He could see in the other guys eyes that he wasn’t happy and was fed up with Grantaire flirting around him. He closed in and Grantaire put up his arms to absorb a blow. He was knocked back and stumbled, the crowd pushed him back into the other man's reach so Grantaire flung and struck him at a bad angle across his brow bone.

The other man barely even took a second before bringing his first to Grantaire’s mouth. Grantaire gasped with pain but that noise was absorbed by the crowd, immediately he was then kicked in his leg. Grantaire was starting to feel cornered and slightly desperate. He flung his fists out wildly hitting the man in the face and he then pushed him forcibly, back away from himself.

Grantaire could hear his heart beating like a small hummingbird trying to break from his chest. He knew he was rasping and he spat into the Paris pavement and it was red.

They had a moment circling each other like lions waiting for the right moment to pounce. Grantaire went in but he was ready and the man grabbed Grantaire by his dark curls and brought his head down and his knee up simultaneously and there was a terrible noise as the two collided. The crowd hissed in sympathetic pain and Grantaire almost fell straight to the ground, instead he struck out at the man's face, giving him a hard thud across his cheekbone.  

They were both stumbling gasping and bloody and Grantaire wasn’t a better fighter, he definitely couldn't’ say that for sure. But he definitely needed the money more.

Grantaire drew back and with one final hit sent him to the ground and it was over.

It was terrible, he hurt all over and the other guy looked like absolute shit so he imagined he looked much the same. Grantaire collected his money and left to lick his wounds. He could go to Joly because he would actually have the materials to patch im up well but Joly would probably never let him out of his sights again if he saw how he looked right now. So instead he slunk off back to his apartment.

He struggled with his lock, knuckles already starting to bruise and swell. Grantaire got into his freezing apartment, took off his shoes and got out the bag of frozen peas he’d bought a couple hours earlier. First he had some panadol before then slumping against the counter holding the peas to his face feeling weirdly like he wanted to cry. What he should do is call someone, Eponine would be best or Joly but instead he stood there alone holding a melting pea bag to his face.

He wishes that he could time travel to his younger self, at maybe fifteen and show him this image now. Grantaire would shake his younger self and yell “is this what you want? To be alone in a one room apartment with a bruise for a face holding peas on your own head?” God it was tragic, he should really call someone and at least feel less like his stomach was going to collapse with how alone he felt.  But this was the thing Grantaire really wanted to but also really did not. He carved to not be alone like this but he was at a loss on how to remedy it without asking everybody in Paris “You wanna be with this hot mess? Great, come hold this pea bag to my head.”

He slowly lied down on his mattress, easing into it gently and took out his phone. He had almost all of Les Amis’s phone numbers by now and Eponine's. He looked through them but ultimately just ended up looking at the last conversation he had which was with Enjolras. So on a whim he texted Enjolras without thinking about it.

 **to;** enj

_i feel in a weird mood_

He got an almost immediate response.

 **from;** enj

_how so?_

**to;** enj

_kinda a weird loneliness i guess_

The next reply took a while and Grantaire was starting to feel a bit like he might fall asleep on his pea packet pillow when his phone vibrated against the wooden floor.

 **from;** enj

_i know what u mean to be honest its weird how paris is so large yet people still feel so isolated within it a lot of the time, u shouldn't though you have lots of people around you im sure joly would have you over in a heartbeat you know that so why are you choosing to be alone?_

**to;** enj

_its hard to explain i guess._

**from;** enj

_try me_

Grantaire sighed leaning back, he wanted to but he doesn’t really think this is the sort of conversation he should be having over text. Plus as much as he found Enjolras enchanting and righteously moral on a obnoxious level he doesn't really know if he felt like he was quite ready to tell him his life story. Plus he doubted Enjolras would understand what any of this was like for him.

 **to;** enj

_maybe another night_


	6. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine pays Grantaire a visit and so does someone else  
> tw; injuries, smoking

Grantaire woke up the next morning on a soggy bag of defrosted peas feeling like shit. He’d  woken up to the sound of his door being busted open by Eponine. She had what sounded like plastic bags on her arms and she seemed to quietly walk over and rest them on his counter. He vaguely heard some rustling noises before she was crouching down beside him. He reluctantly turned over and Eponine hissed in sympathy.

“Shit R’.” She handed him a glass of water and some pills, he didn’t question her just downed them immediately and hoped that they were painkillers. He didn’t own a mirror himself but his whole face felt like a bruise.

“You should see the other guy,” he rasped with a toothy grin, drinking the last of the water.

She sighed and sat down on the ground, “You at least get some decent money?” He gave a small nod, and she gave one back. “Okay then lets have a look at you,” she had brought a little box full of different things along with her and started to gently dab his face where there was some crusty blood left, such as under his nose and around his mouth. When she finished with that she started to put little strips on his to keep the cuts closed. She kept telling him “you’re lucky you don’t need stitches.”

She worked away at this for a couple moments before saying “Gavroche wanted to come see you, y’know,” he hummed in response “But maybe next week I don’t want him to think that he can become kung fu kid.” Which was probably for the best although Grantaire did miss the little guy.

She looked at his discarded phone and said “I take it you didn’t call anyone because you’re an idiot.”

He pouted which hurt his lip “I am not.”

She picked up his phone to prove her point and said in surprise “You did text someone,” then frowned “Who is this?”

“Enjolras? He’s a friend of Jolys.” He was trying to not draw attention to it but she was squinting at the messages intently making a ‘hmm’-ing noise. Thankfully she seemed to have decided to have mercy on him and she put the phone down.

“I’m going to make some coffee, I’ll be right back,” she left the room then to go get the kettle from Grantaire's neighbor who was a small spanish woman.

He swung around feet hitting the floor which he could feel through the holes in his socks. He looked around for his phone but it wasn’t where he thought Eponine would have put it, he frowned but then the door opened and Eponine came in with the kettle in one hand and phone in the other. She tossed it to him and it landed on his lap “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” said Eponine innocently which immediately raised a red flag. She plugged in the kettle and started to fill it with water before starting “I just texted Enjolras, I think he’s coming round in a bit.”

“You did what?” this was kind of an alarming idea for Grantaire “He doesn’t even know where I live though?” Dear god let that save him at least.

“Oh yeah I told him,” she turned around “You can always tell him not to.”

He sighed looking at the message which was his address then enjolras had responded;

 **from;** enj

_are you being held hostage?? should i call the police_

**to;** enj

_No that’s where i live u should come over now._

“I think the damage has been done at this point Ep’ to be honest it’s just seem weird if i suddenly told him not to,” he flopped back on his bed “Why do you hate me.”

She had finished making coffee and carried them over with a practised ease which probably came from the years of waitressing. “You know I love you that’s why I am forcing you to let your friends look after you. Or at least the ones who you see more often and don’t have a kid to worry about.” She gave him a look “Maybe you should clean up a bit.”

He sipped his coffee with defeat “Alright then avert your eyes.” He carefully stripped his top half off first and despite his teasing request he could feel her eyes observing him for more injuries. He found a clean t-shirt and a jumper which could probably be in a better condition but it was better than a blood stained hoodie. Then he methodically took off his jeans and hunted around for the one pair of track pants he owned. Once Grantaire considered himself to be about as presentable as he got he decided to go to the communal bathroom and see just how bad the damage was.

It was pretty bad. There was a decent bruise on his cheekbone, his nose was also going a nice purple shade and his lip was split and red. In short he looked terrible and he wasn’t keen of the idea of Enjolras being within ten feet of him or his apartment. The fact was though (and he couldn't be bothered explaining it to Eponine) but even if he said not to come Enjolras would probably still come anyway now, especially if he thought something was wrong. Which he supposes it was.

Grantaire runs his finger through his hair and takes a deep breath. He can only really do the best with what he’s got he guesses and he makes his way back up to his apartment. When he opens the door there is a heavy atmosphere of unease and Enjolras is standing against one side of the wall and Eponine on the opposite and they seem to just be eyeing each other up. “Um,” he starts in confusion with why they are both just staring in silence.

Enjolras turns to him and he immediately sees the shock in his eyes “What the fuck Grantaire-”

“It’s looks worse than it is-”

“ _What the fuck_ Grantaire!” He came over to him and he looked so alarmed that it was starting to scare _him_ a little. “What happened?” He then reached out turning Grantaire’s face which made him jump a little bit in surprise.

“It’s fine okay I just needed some money so I did a fight I’m fine, Eponine was the one who asked you to come here anyway,” Enjolras turned around to look at Eponine then back at Grantaire and he looked a little bit overwhelmed.

“And you live here?”

He scowled “Yes I live here.”

He turned to Eponine now “And you’re…?” She took a sip of her coffee and her eyes were narrowed in a way that Grantaire knew meant that she hadn’t taken an immediate liking to Enjolras.

“She’s a friend,” he interjected quickly “I knew Eponine in highschool and I moved to Paris after she did because I uh, didn’t really have anyone else at this time.” He shifted uncomfortably and Enjolras was still looking incredibly at a loss “Do you want to sit down or something?” Enjolras nodded mutely and dumped his bag on the floor before sitting down on the corner of Grantaire’s mattress.

He knew his place must look terrible to Enjolras with its mattress on the floor and one cabinet full of all his clothes. And to think that he probably looked even worse. Eponine followed his lead sitting down on the floor cross legged and Grantaire did too moving carefully with sore muscles. Enjolras noticed this and watched how sore he was with sharp eyes and a troubled expression.

“You’re alright though? I just,” he paused like he does very often to collect his thoughts and put them in order, when he doesn’t he becomes nonsensical as hell and it was quite amusing. “I didn’t know you were so tight on money, I mean I knew you were pretty poor but I didn’t know you had to get beaten up just to feed yourself.” Eponine was giving Grantaire a look like ‘I told you so.’ “I mean Feuilly works in half the places in Paris he could help you out, hell you could even work at the Musain.” He was giving him that look where his eyes were all big and it was like he was searching for some sign in Grantaire’s eyes that he believed what he was saying.

He let a slightly annoyed breath out of his nose “I know it’s just never that simple.”

“But it is!” Enjolras just looked confused and still slightly hysterical.

Grantaire didn’t like this the sitting around and judging him party that was happening right now “This is not an intervention can we all just ease up a bit.” He patted his pockets down “Have you got my smokes?”

Eponine handed his lighter and pack of cigarettes over “Here are you expensive death sticks.” Which made Grantaire laugh because it was something that Gavroche had told him once while giving him a very stern disapproving look.

He put it in between his lips and started to light it “I don’t know why we can’t all just sit here and talk about pleasant things, like how beautiful I look today.” Enjolras was watching him with a frown “I’m allowed to smoke indoors I’m not going to get evicted for this.” Grantaire distinctly remembers the woman who showed him around smoking a cigar and saying ‘Best building in Paris the only one you can smoke in’ before giving a deep cackle. Enjolras nodded before looking over at Eponine again.

“What was Grantaire like in high school?” He looked genuinely interested and Eponine grinned.

“He was a tiny emo,” Grantaire immediately groaned “Okay he was more like grungy than like full on emo but still your typical depressed high schooler who is like ‘no one understand me, my tortured soul!’.”

“And Eponine wore lots of eye makeup and had something against literally every single person in our town, and listened to lots of angry feminist songs.” He blew out a breath of smoke “She was terrifying.”

She grinned “And now look at us, all grown up.” Grantaire laughed because although he was probably a lot more mature than his high school self they still had pretty much the same issues. Eponine had turned out pretty well she had cut herself from all the terrible people she knew, quit the booze and smokes and was raising Gavroche.

“What about you in highschool?” he asks turning on Enjolras.

He shrugged “I guess what you would expect, kind of an angry nerd that no one liked.”

“Did they not like you because you have ‘the devil in your eyes’.” He joked thinking back to the iconic refusal of service over the one direction cake.

Enjolras laughed “Maybe that was it yeah.”

They all sat around and eventually Eponine sighed “I should get home I said I’d get back to Gavroche for lunch.”

Grantaire said “Good plan or he’ll just start eating anything you have,” Eponine made a humming noise of agreement “It’s been good as always.” He rose to see her off, and she grabbed her coat and handbag.

She gave him a farewell hug “Stay out of trouble ‘R.” She leaned out again giving him a smile “I’ll be coming around more often, don’t want to be handing you off to some tosser,” and with that very subtle statement she gave Enjolras a wave “Nice to meet you,” Before leaving.

He let out a breath and turned back to where Enjolras was sitting on the edge of Grantaire’s bed looking distinctly out of place. It was kind of nice in a weird way, Grantaire always felt like he was the one who was out of place in the Musain and now Enjolras was looking like a diamond ring lying in the mud. He said “You don’t have to stay or anything.”

Enjolras shook his head “No I’m staying.” He had a firm set to his jaw that told Grantaire that he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Grantaire decided not to fight it and sat next to him on the mattress. “You could have told me last night that you were hurt Grantaire,” he said finally. “I could have done something or at least been there.”

Grantaire rubbed his hands together “Yeah I know, I guess its still a bit weird that I have anyone to call in the first place.” He paused unsure of whether or not he wanted to continue. “And I really like you guys I don’t want to freak you all out or anything.”

He didn’t even finish the sentence before Enjolras was furiously shaking his head. “You’re a friend Grantaire not a bother to us, jesus christ.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment before reaching out and resting his hand on Grantaire’s arm “You can work at the Musain as much as you can manage but you shouldn’t ever have to get hurt just to have money okay?” Grantaire nodded and was starting to feel his eyes sting.

“Old habits die hard I guess,” he sighs “I honestly don’t know where I would be without Eponine.” Except he does know, he’d be dead about ten times over.

Enjolras removed his hand then and said a little awkwardly “Is she uh, I mean are you guys?”

Grantaire was confused for a second before laughing “No oh my god, no no. She’s the closest to family I have, as cliche as that sounds. We are definitely not a couple or anything.”

“Oh okay. Sorry, the two of you just seemed really close I wasn’t sure.” Grantaire leant back against the wall not really sure how to respond or where to go from here “How come she moved to Paris in the first place?”

“Her brother Gavroche lives here with her parents, she was brought up in the city but foster families or some shit took her North. But she came back here to get custody over Gavroche. Her parents are kinda the shittiest parents ever so it wasn’t hard,” Enjolras nods like he has an understanding of that much “They were on a whole new level of shit parenting it was kinda horrifying.”

Enjolras hummed in agreement “It’s good that she cared about her brother enough to save him from that then.”

“Yeah Gavroche is a cool little kid, when she told me she was leaving I was kinda freaked out but I knew it was what would be best for them both. Plus I ended up following her down here anyway so it all worked out really.”

“I thought you came here to go to art school?” Enjolras had also relaxed against the wall and seemed to be politely keeping his shoes off Grantaire’s bed which made him smile.

He shrugged “There were a lot of reasons to come down here really.” Grantaire didn’t really want to get into all of the reasons or they might be here all day. “For example the beautiful Paris living,” he said sarcastically waving an arm around at the room.

Enjolras followed the movement and snorted “Yes you have a lovely home.” He looked around a bit more “Where’s all your art?”

“I keep it at Jolys or it’ll just get damaged from like dampness and stuff.” He didn’t really want to draw attention to just how shit his living conditions were so he changed the subject “And what about you do you live in a five story mansion?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes “No I live in a normal sized apartment and Courfeyrac and Combeferre live right across the hall. The woman above me listens to music too loudly and the people to the left of me never say hello to me back in the elevator, normal apartment stuff.”

“I live next to an angry Spanish woman who lets me borrow her kettle?” He offers, “Oh shit which reminds me I should go give that back I’ll be back in a second.”  

He hops up and unplugs the kettle and takes it next door. He doesn’t even know if she’s home he just opens the unlocked door and leaves it by the door. He comes back into his own apartment and Enjolras is still just sitting there looking out of place but like he isn’t moving. Grantaire gives him a look and says “Do you want to go get coffee or something? Or go somewhere where they have like some chairs?”

Enjolras sighed in relief getting up “Yes that would be great.” He then gives Grantaire an unsure look “But won’t people be kinda worried that you have a bruised face?”

“Nah I’ve gone around places smaller than Paris with my face more bruised than this, no one says a word.” Enjolras frowned in extreme concern but Grantaire wasn’t watching, he was looking around for his shoes. He found them and slipped them on before grabbing his coat which had been dumped on the floor near the doorway. “Alright then, let’s go get some coffee.”


	7. Not A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; for descriptions of past abuse, past mentions of drug abuse and alcohol abuse, past depression, past suicide idealization and past racism.

So they go out for coffee.

Enjolras leads him through twisting back alleys with a familiar ease until reaching a cafe that he tells Grantaire confidently that no one will see them in. It was strange to be here with nobody else, quieter. They settled into a corner and drank coffees in a calm silence. Enjolras was different alone, less full on perhaps and certainly less provoked for random outbursts of anger. His anger was never irrational, although Grantaire often struggled to see the exact reason behind why he was so passionate about things like racism that were so wildly out of his control. He could appreciate his aggressive, passionate nature but it doesn’t mean he understood it in the slightest.

Enjolras looked a little on edge though, the way he looked when he had something he needed to sort out in his head before saying. He plays with the small packet of sugar turning it over and over again in his hand in a way that made Grantaire think of how his mother used to sit at the kitchen table with a key in her hand turning it in agitation. This thought alarmed him because he didn’t know what he might have done to aggravate Enjolras.

“Did I do something wrong?” he burst out unable to contain this sudden anxiety over the idea of Enjolras being mad at him for some bizarre reason.

Enjolras looked up from the space in the mid distance he had been staring off into and drew his brows together in confusion “What? No? Why would I be?”

“Your being all weird.”

He blew out a breath but seemed to not be able to quite meet him in the eyes “It’s nothing, I just,” he waved his hands around a bit as if his lack of being able to mack sense was only further agitating him “I just don’t want to pry or anything.”

Grantaire took a sip of his coffee (which Enjolras had insisted on paying for) “I’ll just ask stuff about you then we’ll be even.”

Enjolras frowned “I feel like mine will be serious and you’re just gonna ask me dumb shit like ‘how do you get your hair so blonde’ and then we aren’t even at all.”

Grantaire put his cup down and cleared his throat “Okay I’ll be serious then.”

Enjolras chanced a look at his face and his eyes were earnest so he said hesitantly “You don’t have to answer anything…” Grantaire rolled his eyes “I just, lots of this just doesn’t make sense, like why have you beat hit worse than this? Or why was this your immediate money making choice? And why don’t you feel comfortable enough to tell us when you're struggling?” He took a breath “Sorry that was more than one question.”

Grantaire shifted “I’ll answer the first one but then you gotta answer one of mine or it isn’t fair.” Enjolras nodded solemnly despite Grantaire’s half hearted teasing tone. Grantaire didn’t really think he’d be having this conversation with Enjolras now or perhaps ever but despite his explosive behaviour at times he was absolutely without a doubt, a good person.

“My mum was Romani and she was a chain smoker and wasn’t really around much at home like ever?” It came out like a question despite himself “My dad left when I was pretty young, all I really know about him was that he was some Pakistani guy who left with a younger woman to go be a crack addict or something.” He could see surprise in Enjolras's eyes and he wasn’t sure if that was from his startling honesty or from the details themselves. “And the stuff I remember about him is a lot worse than that,” this is when he paused unsure on how to even say words that he had never said to anybody except Eponine. Enjolras leaned forward and pressed his knee reassuringly against his under the table and Grantaire took a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “He was loud and threw things a lot and I just remember him and my mum screaming at each other constantly. So yeah I’d sometimes show up to class looking like I’d just had my face smashed into a wall and no one really gave a fuck.”

Enjolras just looked horrified now “What the fuck?! How old were you?”

He shrugged “Like nine or ten I guess.”

He leant back in his chair looking shunned “God that’s really,” he rubbed his face with his hand “That’s really screwed up.”

“I don’t know, they all knew i was just that poor Pakistani kid with the parents who were off their fuking nut so no one really thought twice about it,” he often thinks back about how those same teacher would have reacted if the nice white kids ever came in looking even half that bad.They sat for a moment let that absorb as people around them milled around, it was a pretty unpopular cafe by the looks of it and it had a light cover of dust and the barristers all look thoroughly unhappy with life, like a modern inhibitor of ‘A Bar at the Folies Bergere.’ He wonders idly if perhaps one of them in named Suzon.

“My turn now,” he decided leaning forward on his elbows “What was your childhood like then?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes with a small tolerating smile on his face but he could see that he was still troubled “It was fine? I grew up here, my Father is a rich and kinda gross old white man and my Mother is the ‘exotic’ islander woman he married, she’s like his third wife or something, but I’m his only kid.”

Grantaire nodded “You seem like an only child.”

“How?” He asked in confusion.

He laughed before stopping “Okay firstly that really hurt my face, also I don’t know man you just give off a vibe, maybe it’s the whole impromptu family thing you got goin’ on with Les Amis. Anyway get back to the story monsieur.”

He huffed but the corner of his mouth was quirked upwards “I met Combeferre when I was eleven and we have been friends ever since and I don’t know,” he shifted a bit in his seat “I struggled a bit with like identity stuff and I knew my parents would hate it all so I just kept it between me and ‘Ferre. And yeah that's about it, nothing super exciting.”

“What sorta identity stuff?”

“No, no it’s my turn now and I want to know who you fought?” He looked almost a little angry, well perhaps not angry more vengeful. He was looking Grantaire in the face properly and this seemed to only fuel the avenging angel bullshit that he was feeling right now.

“What? I don’t know who it was just some random ass dude. It was just a little fighting and betting thing that springs up all around the city, and other cities. It’s an easy way to get money and I’m usually a better fighter but I’m out of practice,” Grantaire said defensively.

Enjolras asks curiously, “Did you win?”

He smiled “Yes.” He could have probably left it at that but he said suddenly “I went into a foster home for a year when I was seventeen and it was pretty great because they wanted to encourage like exercise and stuff because that’s what my therapist said would help me stop feeling so depressed and stuff,” He saw something in Enjolras's posture sharpen but didn’t look because he was afraid of seeing sympathy in his eyes “And so I got to do boxing and ballet and I really loved it. I kept doing it for a while after but I lost my job and my boyfriend didn’t want to pay for classes.”

“Boyfriend?” He asks in surprise.

“Yeah I lived with him before I came here, for like a year or something,” Grantaire looked away then “He was an asshole.”

“That sucks” said Enjolras with feeling “You guys must have been kind of close if you were living together for a year though?” Grantaire had become aware that the question each thing had deteriorated but he didn’t care to point it out. “Well I don’t know obviously, I just,” he did that thing where he shifts in his seat which was a habit he did when he was uncomfortable or feeling like we was saying something wrong. “He must have been at least kinda important to you at the time or something.”

Grantaire shrugged “I guess, I mean he was my first long term partner or whatever but we weren’t like in love or anything. I mean he would sleep with other people and never really seemed to give a fuck whether I was there or not when he woke up soo,” Grantaire hated talking about Alec. “But I mean I was young and kinda fucked up and didn’t have anywhere else to go, my mum had died and Eponine was going to be moving away I didn’t really give a shit about myself either at that point.” Grantaire decided not to mention how sometimes he still felt like that, it was a sad enough story as it is. He remembers so clearly how he would wake up late in the afternoon feeling groggy and scared yet at the same time not giving a shit. He’d arise and drink and paint and wished more than anything that he would one day not wake up at all. “Honestly whoever made up that whole ‘you screw people who remind you of your father’ shit might have been onto something,” he said with a snort. “He was one violent ass son of a bitch.”

Enjolras said softly “I hope they weren’t you deserve better than that,” with an odd amount of sincerity that still managed to take Grantaire by surprise “Plus I really do not want to have to be with a racist, balding asshole. Seriously m farther is basically a French Donald Trump.”

Grantaire burst out with a surprised laugh that was like a shock of light within the small building. Enjolras stared at him with a weird sort of reverence, it was strange how little a man could care for protecting the beautiful things in the world yet be one of them himself. Grantaire often talked about art and although Enjolras understood the history behind artworks in France Grantaire would often argue that, this was pointless.

At one of Jehans poetry readings, with the sun going down sending a dark red tinge through the air, the humming of hipsters mumbling their poems before they went onstage. Grantaire was holding a beer bottle, cradling it to himself as he smirked as Enjolras finished his sentence. He said gleefully “ _Qui est là que vous avez tort Monsieur_ ,” (That’s where you’re wrong Monsieur). He looked electric, his hair was swept upwards tied up with what looked like an old rubber band and his eyes, God his eyes. They were deep, darker than brown seemed to go like Enjolras was staring into the depths of the Earth itself. Flecks of green scattered near one pupal that looked as rich as something beautiful growing from that deep and plentiful Earth. “You don’t understand Monet because you don’t understand _art_ , I mean have you ever even _been_ to the galleries,” Enjolras shook his head, in his tipsyness he found himself watching Grantaire’s cupids bow as he did. “Disgraceful. Well I have, I’ve also been to his gardens out in Giverny and although I see their holy beauty, a true botanists wank bank.” Enjolras snorted in surprise “It’s nothing, nothing compared to being surrounded by those painting. _God Enjolras_ ”  He sounded like a preacher suddenly their roles reversed, Grantaire passionate and Enjolras not understanding this but he certainly enjoyed they way he was almost moaning with ecstasy. “They have these rooms of them and you stare, and that horizonless lake stares back. Every ripple and shadow so perfect captured by a flick of one man's brush and he captures not angels or historical battles but the pure beauty we hope to find each day.” His hand had abandoned the beer bottle in favour of instead gesturing wildly as he spoke. “That’s what I love about these artists Enjolras they see more, they don’t need something that is already art to make art from, they can make art from dirtied boots.” Enjolras wonders in this Cafe now if that is what he is experiencing.

Grantaire was smiling at him and spoke, interrupting his appreciation of what Enjolras saw as perhaps the only real art he’d ever seen in this city in all the years he’d been here. “That’s why I practically live with Joly now anyway, I’ve had enough with violent men”

Enjolras nodded “I’ll drink to that.” They clinked their cups of coffee together and lapsed back into this quiet morning scene of a beautiful man and a bruised one drinking together in companionable silence.


	8. Offer

Incase you were unaware, Grantaire was not much one for optimism. He’d had a hard life, one that was continuing to be hard and he struggled to believe that there was anything beyond endlessly pushing a rock up a hill only to see it roll down eternity after eternity, the Sisyphus curse. He had a mantra in life of reminding himself to never get too hopeful that things were going to somehow turn around in a single moment of Disney movie like brilliance, it was simply the top of the hill.

That being said he couldn’t help but thinking about which Disney prince Enjolras most closely resembled as he fucked up another coffee. He swore loudly into the empty shop and Feuilly made a tutting noise from behind him. “It’s not that hard you need to get used to the machines Grantaire.” He was here an hour before the Musain opened to get the place ready and attempt to help Grantaire work the stupid nozzles.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve probably worked in every cafe in all of Paris,” Feuilly didn’t disagree so Grantaire murmured “ _Sale chienne de café_ ,” angrily as he tried again.

There was a sharp whack on the back of his head “You wish you were a ‘ _dirty coffee bitch_ ’, now make me a Affogato Frappuccino.” He leant up against the bench with a satisfied smirk and Grantaire obediently consulted the chart and fumbled his way around trying to make the damn thing.

“When did this place become starbucks anyway? Like who orders this shit?”

Feuilly snorted “You should see what Courf drinks it's basically flavoured, liquid sugar,” He pulls a face which makes Grantaire snort with laughter “It insults me to make the damn things, but at least it's not as bad as Enjolras. He basically inhales pure coffee. The amount of espresso shots he asks for makes me think he longs for death.”

Grantaire threw his head back and laughed “Good god, that strangely doesn’t surprise me.” He often forgets that Enjolras is also a fellow student desperately trying to make deadlines and staying up at night with red eyes trained on a computer screen. The computer part Grantaire never experienced himself since he was an art student and all his art history or other papers he did by hand, all sloppy and ink stained. He wouldn’t mind a computer but it wasn’t really in his budget right now. It was probably about as out of reach as a ferrari.

Over the course of the next half an hour Feuilly had him at a place that was at least not a total disaster. He ended up nodding and just saying that Cosette and him would be doing the majority of the work anyway, he was just there to watch and learn. Grantaire didn’t know that Cosette worked here and he was a bit hesitant. He knows about the history there with Eponine and with Marius and although he was sure she was a nice girl he didn’t know if he would take to her instantly.

Cosette seemed nice, he was awfully quiet and had a golden retriever (and no he didn’t mean Marius although it was an easy mistake to make). Her hair was always matching shades of pastel with Bahorel who was about ten times larger than her. Her eyes were large and she always looked imploring and reserved. She wore small, flowing dresses with big boots and a leather jacket. She was hard to figure out.

She came in that day with her apron already on over black tights and a white dress with little flowers embroidered into it. Her jacket was huge and she spent a good amount of time shaking out her umbrella at the doorway before flipping the sign to “ _Ouvert!_ ” in curling handwriting that was perhaps her own. Grantaire bussied himself in wiping down the bench and the machines and as she came behind the counter she simply stopped in surprise. She looked at him with those big, brown and unblinking eyes before her face broke into a very genuine smile “Oh hello Grantaire, _combien il est agréable de vous voir ici!” (How nice it is to see you here.)_

He gave a shy smile in return “You too Cosette.”

“Are you working here now?” She inquired as she set down her jacket and her bag in the back room where the owner did paperwork.

“When I can yeah, I’m just starting today though so I’m not very good yet.”

She smiled “I was useless at first, always getting distracted. I’m still better at working at the counter instead of making the drinks.”

“Hopefully no one too attractive comes in then,” he says good naturedly, before realising “Although this is basically the only place where the entirety of Les Amis frequents so that seems unlikely.”

She laughs softly as she speaks, as if she was in Church “That is true, now let's make some coffee.”

~~~

Grantaire had decided that he likes Cosette, she was less frazzled that Feuilly was a lot of the time. She reminded him of Luna Lovegood secretly and the thought made him smile. Whenever someone raised their voices within the cafe they would both flinch in a way that made Grantaire think sadly that they probably had as much in common as him and Eponine did. She was right though, about her tendency to stare off into space and get lost in thought. It never seemed clueless to him though, she always seemed to be deeply thoughtful as any other one of Les Amis would be.

Twenty minutes or so before Grantaire was set to leave Enjolras trudges inside, bundled up in a jacket and hoodie, holding a laptop bag protectively to his chest. Grantaire could see the bags under his eyes from across the room and was filled with a knowing sympathy. He trudged up the the counter and sad to Cosette tiredly “Coffee please.”  

She said softly “Hi Enjolras, I take it you want the usual 10 shots of death in it.”

He nodded in a way that would look more suited in _The Walking Dead_ , “Yes please.”

He handed money over before mutely trudging over to a small table by the window in the corner, he looked strangely small and slumped there by himself, without a gang of social justice warriors surrounding him all making plans for taking down the government. Grantaire sighed because he couldn’t help himself, before turning his eyes reluctantly back to how Feuilly makes the “ten shots of death coffee.” When he was done making what looked disgusting and frankly unfit for human consumption Grantaire picked it up artfully and took it to Enjolras.

He looked up from his screen and Grantaire stopped a little in surprise “Since when do you wear glasses?” The words came out a little insulted, because he almost felt like he was. He didn’t know this, he feels like someone should have warned him about this. Enjolras frowned in confusion a crease appearing between his eyebrows, right above the offending item.

Enjolras tilted his head in confusion “Um… since when I forget to put contacts in?” He seemed greatly confused by Grantaire standing motionless in front of him holding his coffee and staring accusingly at his face. “Is that okay with you?” Maybe a little too okay “Can I have my coffee now please?”

Grantaire nodded stupidly and sat it down in front of him, besides his laptop in which he had about 50 tabs open on but was currently on tumblr. “Sorry,” he didn’t know how to articulate it beyond that. Sorry for thinking you look like a loser, sorry for kind of loving it. His hair was a mess and was quite a bit longer than Grantaire's. Right now it was tied up in a small bun which was messy as hell and his whole head had a halo of fly-aways around it. He zeroed in on the bun and was seconds away from blurting out ‘is that a scrunchie?? Are you actually kidding me right now?’  before realising he should probably stop yelling about Enjolras’s appearance, at least to him. Although he was definitely going to describe every single detail of this to Eponine the next time she came around with a bottle of cheap wine.

Grantaire opened his mouth as if to say something else, as Enjolras did what could only be described as practically breathing in his coffee, but he just closed it again and turned on his heel and left Enjolras sitting there, wearing glasses and a scrunchie being very confused.

~~~

The best thing about his week by far was during the meeting on Friday, and that was saying something because between starting to have some money coming in so that his landlord seemed more like they were not going to turn his power off, and the bruises fading away and no longer hurting, he had been having a pretty good week. He’d walked happily into the Musain after his painting class with hues of blues and violets across his hands and up his arms. He’d gotten a smudge of deep _pourpre_ on his sweater which he thinks was once Eponines. And he was unaware of this currently but he had a striking dash of _‘Starry Night’_  blue across his cheek. He grinned broadly simply because he was pleased with the work he had done today _“Bonjour mes chéris”_ he announced to the room which currently consisted of Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Bahorel, and of course Feuilly wiping down the tables.

Courfeyrac turned in delight with this introduction as Grantaire plopped his backpack on the floor and tore his old and hole covered jacket off. Grantaire slumped down in a chair at their table and Courfeyrac said rapidly _“Bonjour mon cher Grantaire!_ What has you in such a delightful state?”

“Can a man not simply be delightful without any reason?”

Courf tutted “Of course he can, it is simply not something I am not used to seeing on you _mon cher.”_ He whacked Enjolras on the arm, drawing his attention away from his laptop “But it looks good on him does it not! You would know _maître de la beauté que vous êtes!” (master of beauty that you are)_ which Grantaire smiled at because he couldn’t help but agree.

People slowly filtered into the cafe and everyone took their seats and there seemed to be some unspoken agreement that today would be a more relaxed than usual since everybody seemed to be a bit run down. Halfway into reading an email Combeferre was interrupted by Marius who suddenly said very loudly “Where is Cosette?”

Bahorel looked up from his phone which was huge but looked average sized in his massive meaty hands, “She’s going to be late, some sort of mix up in her class, idk” he actually spoke the letters aloud “she is pretty annoyed but she’ll be here soon.”

Combeferre interrupted “Can I please finish reading this now.”

Sure enough about ten minutes after this Cosette bursts through the doors looking weepy and upset, everyone immediately asks her what's wrong in deep concern. She sits down and sadly and softly explains what happened, “I have a big ballet dance coming up and I was just keeping up with what we were doing and now my partner has completely bailed on me for tiny, little Adele because he thinks that it’ll be easier to get a good mark with her.” Grantaire couldn’t help but think, what an asshole. “So now I have no partner for the dance and it’s in a couple weeks and I’m going to fail.” She slumped over, resting her head with a thud on the table.

Everyone immediately rushes to condone her and insult the previous partner who so quickly abandoned her for an apparently better dance partner. They all ask if she knows anyone else who she could do it with or if she could do it alone (to both she says no). The whole time Grantaire sits silently in contemplation with a thought at the back of his mind which he takes a long time to voice.

It had been a long time since he’d danced, and he missed it. He and Cosette took hip-hop in high school, and he’d done ballet. He once got to go to a couple swing dancing lessons which he had absolutely adored although couldn’t afford to keep doing. He also won awards as a gymnast and a boxer. It was strange to think about this, how many things that once came so naturally to him had one by one slipped away. If anyone had asked he’d probably tell them that he didn’t miss it, but he did, god he did. His bones ached for movement and rhythm and he longed for that sense of exhilaration and exhaustion which came with hours of repetition of hitting a punching bag or doing the same dance movements over and over again.

He found himself saying softly “I could do it,” to which everyone turned to look at him with surprise. “I did ballet for six or so years.”

Everyone else seemed to still be quite surprised by this piece of information but Cosette said softly “It’s a hard routine, are you good? I mean we will only have a couple weeks to get it right and I would love to get a good grade to ready show it to that stupid guy,” Courf and Musichetta hummed in agreement simultaneously. “So can you keep up with that?”

“What’s the routine?”

She looks surprised now “From _The Nutcracker_ which is kind of cliche but our teacher loves the classics.” Grantaire was nodding assuredly but she still seemed worried that he didn’t know what he was getting into. “It’s going to be on like a stage and everything and I mean only people’s friends are going to come see it because it’s not a full on performance or anything quite that fancy yet, but it’s still-”

“Cosette,” he reached out and held her arm to try and calm her down “I can do it trust me.”

She breathed out and said with a small hesitant smile starting to form on her lips “Are you free tomorrow?”

After the meeting had gotten back into the swing of things Grantaire had buried himself in a dollar store sketchpad and did some thoughtless doodling while thinking about dancing. The more he thought about it the more his bones ached for movement. He had a thousand routines in his head patterned out and he hardly ever forgot a dance once he had learnt it. He was familiar with most classics seeing as his teacher, similar to Cosette's, had also held the philosophy of learning those dances first. They danced their way through Swan Lake and The Nutcracker for a year before they then began to start composing their own dances. He loved that studio, he had practically lived there all through high school and he knew every inch of that place blind. He’d once fallen asleep there and his teacher had come in the next morning to prep for a class and laughed at the sight of tiny Grantaire curled up on the floor, still wearing his ballet shoes.

Some kids had naturally been cruel about it, and he knows that anyone in this room would give an impassioned rant about how it was fighting traditional gender roles which was why they were being so cruel. It’s not that far off really, but it was also around the time he had kissed a boy at a party which his high school had a field day with. Eponine glared down anyone who said a word though so it didn’t last very long. Everyone was quick to judge the queer kid who did ballet, and no amount of dark eyes rimmed with smudged makeup giving them a hostile look could change that.

He was roused from his musings at the sound of people beginning to pack up to leave, Joly looked over excitedly “Grantaire come over, Musichetta is gonna make her mam’s stew! Then we’re watching parks and rec’!” He was tapping his cane excitedly against the floor as he spoke a grin widening on his face.

He smiled back “Yes please, god knows how I love that stew.” Bossuet clapped happily as Joly whooped, as if he was going to deny the offer of good food, company and a heated apartment instead of going to bed cold, alone and hungry. Honestly these boys are ridiculous. “Where are we up to in parks and rec?”

“Leslie and Ben are dooooing it!” Joly said gleefully.

“Sweet.”

~~~

They got into their apartment that night and Musichetta kicked off her boots and made a beeline for the kitchen rubbing her calloused and strong hands together in glee. Joly flopped on the couch blowing out a breath of exhaustion “My feet hurt.” Bossuet made a sympathetic clucking noise and he sat down next to him, putting Jolys legs over his lap. “Grantaire where are you paints?”

“I think I put them in a cupboard in the kitchen, how come?” He tilted his head in confusion.

“This cane is ugly, will you paint on it like my other one?” He looked at him hopefully, eyes huge and pleading.

“Like you even need to ask.” he said with a roll of his eyes turning to go find his box of paints. He went into the kitchen and Musichetta turned from her preparations giving him a smile. He crouched down and moved aside a bag of cat food and flour to find his paints, giving a soft “Aha!” with victory.

“How's working at the Musain going?” Musichetta asks from behind him.

“Pretty good, although listening to Cosette and Marius gives me a toothache. No one should be that sweet and dopey, _‘Oh Cosette I also love the opera, this must be true love!’_ ” He smiles despite himself. “It’s equal parts sickening and adorable.”

Musichetta hums in agreement “Kill me if I ever get that love sick for those two dorks,” she said nodding towards the direction of the lounge. “Are they even a couple yet?”

He laughs “No, they much rather just stare at each other lovingly as if they are in a Disney film.” Grantaire sighs. “I hope they do get together though, start giving you guys a run for your money as Les Amis’s cutest couple.”

“As if!” She says looking incredibly insulted, pointing her spoon at him accusingly “No one is beating me as the cutest, I am a mother fucking _delight_.”

He raised his hands as defeat and picked up his box of paints, “Whatever you say.” He was just about to leave before he mused aloud “Is fighting the government just a recipe for love or something? I swear everyone is falling in love left and right, you three, courf and combeferre, honestly”

Musichetta nods in agreement “Social justice is definitely romantic nothing gets me riled up more than like emailing school boards for gender neutral toilets, honestly an hour of that and all you wanna do is suck faces with someone.”

He snorts, “I’ll take your word for it.”

Grantaire settled down on the floor in front of Joly and Bossuet as they had an in depth discussion about how many cats was too many cats for one person (“I still think ten is reasonable okay?”) and he got to work on Jolys cane. He wanted to paint flowers over it so he got to work on the small intricate buddings of flowers that were now curling themselves around the cane. He was hunched over and eventually didn’t hear anything, too absorbed in the work.

Until Joly said, “You have a text Grantaire,” his jacket had been plopped on the end of the couch near Joly’s head so he fished out the phone “By the way I’m going to take this opportunity to say that only drug dealers own this phone okay,” he then dramatically cleared his throat, getting ready to read the message. “It’s from our dear leader, Enjolras,” he gave one final cough before saying in a deep and lusty voice “ _Oh Grantaaaire_ you are _soo_ nice for doing that, wanna come make out?” Bossuet snickered.

“Shut up and give me the phone oh my _god_ ,” Joly passed it to him laughing at himself gleefully.

_from; enj_

_that was really nice of you to do that for cosette i mean thats going to be so much work but you didnt even hesitate i mean i dont know it was nice of you do you miss ballet_

His texting was terrible, and always the same just rapidly typed out with no capitals or grammar apart from the odd full stop if he was feeling sympathetic of you. Also this made a lot more sense then Jolys interpretation. Joly interupted this thought my cooing “Also you have him saved as Enj? That’s cute.”

“Joly literally shut up.” He fought back halfheartedly as he text back.

_to; enj_

_that’s why its not going to be that big of a deal, because i do miss it. i miss it a lot to be honest. Its seriously if anything, going to be fun for me_

He rested his ‘drug dealers’ phone down next to him on the floor, where it was hopefully out of Jolys reach as he finished off the blooming flower. Musichetta then came through the doorway announcing “Dinner is ready, come grab a bowl and let's get this party started.”

Grantaire put his paints and Jolys cane to the side and they all went and got some food ooh-ing and ahh-ing in appreciation. Joly himself didn’t get up because he was feeling quite tired and sore, he thinks that he’d done too much walking, but Grantaire brought him a bowl and he sang with appreciation. They all settled down, cramming together on the couch and watched Parks and Rec in appreciative silence of Musichetta’s cooking skills. Grantaire had just wolfed down his dinner as his jean pocket vibrated, he fished out his phone to read the message.

_from; enj_

_can i come watch ive never seen cosettes dancing before and i would like to plus i know that courfeyrac wants to go see her perform so ill go with him_

_from;enj_

_if you dont mind that is, of course_

Grantaire couldn’t help but smiling down at the messages, he doesn’t know why Enjolras would even want to come but he had to admit he wouldn’t mind the chance to show him he could actually do something other than make puns and low-key heckle his social justice club from the back of the room.

_to; enj_

_It will probably just be lots of boring stuff like stretching but whatever man, I won’t judge ur weekend hobbies._

_from; enj_

_ill see you there then_

He looked back up at the television from his phone with a small smile he was trying to repress. Grantaire didn't want to get his hopes up but if he was being truthful he liked Enjolras and although he didn’t think enough of himself to believe it would go anywhere, it was still nice to think about it. He suddenly came to the realization that Joly was staring at him very intently from his left with a little smile on his face. Joly whispered softly “Was that him?”

Grantaire looked away and a the TV very pointedly “No.” He was really fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mes chéris-my dears/darlings  
> mon cher- my dear/darling


	9. The Dancer/ The Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosette and Grantaire do some ballet and Grantaire falls into old habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; being underweight, a brief mention of someone who died of a drug overdose (not a character or anything very briefly mentioned), alcoholism, depression, past self harm

Grantaire woke slowly and reluctantly that morning, basking in the sunlight that was filtering in through the thin curtains that hung in Joly, Bossuet and Musichettas room. After Parks and Rec and finished they had sleepily trudged to bed and told Grantaire he sould come cuddle with them for a while, which of course turned into them all falling asleep in the already massive bed. It was King sized to fit all three of them into it in the first place and Grantaire was small enough that with Joly curled up on his side and Bossuet spooning him from the other side, he fit in just fine. He cracked open an eye to see that Musichetta had already risen and probably left for the day because she liked to go to the gym before class. Bossuet was slumped with a laptop on his belly and Joly was still snoring (and maybe drooling a little) against Grantaire’s other side. He decided to sink further into the duvet, enjoying the warmth of the people beside him and how comfortable their bed was. Bossuet looked over at the sign of movement and whispered softly “Morning R.” It was strange to hear him call him that, but ever since Joly found out that's what Eponine called him he found the pun too amusing to pass up. Grantaire just gave a soft sleepy noise in response to Bossuet closing his eyes again.

The next time he woke one more body had disappeared from the bed and it was only Joly left with his head still resting on Grantaire’s shoulder but there was also their cat Mr Whiskers who had seemed to have taken Bossuet's place and was aggressively licking her own foot. Mr Whiskers had come pre-named but Joly kind of loved it, which was given to the kitten by an eight year old it was worth mentioning. She was actually a girl despite the name and was black and white which caused the delight in the household of yelling “Bad luck! Mr Whiskers just gave you so much bad luck!” whenever the cat crossed in front of you. She didn’t like Grantaire very much when he smelt like cigarettes but Grantaire adored her, she was lazy and gentle and made Grantaire feel desperately like he wants at cat for himself. Joly nuzzled into Grantaire’s shoulder further, mumbling something about Musichetta into his arm. Grantaire rested his head against Joly’s and was quite content just to stay there. He was meeting Cossette just before lunch so he still had plenty of time.

The thought of Cosette made him fish out his phone from the pocket of a pair of sweatpants which Musichetta lets him sleep in whenever he comes over, along with a sweatshirt of Bossuet's which read “A comb is a perfect gift for a bald person, because he'll never part with it!” Grantaire felt like this was slightly mean because Bossuet wasn’t really bald, he had a very, very short haircut and thinning hair but he didn’t actually have no hair. Although since his hair was only a few shades darker brown than his skin he can see how it might look that way at a glance, Joly and Musichetta constantly were rubbing his head and calling him baldy but Bossuet (bless him) took all of it in good humour. He was an undoubtedly cheerful man, it was lovely.

Joly suddenly mumbled “Mornin’ Grantaire”

He said softly back “ _Bonjour ma douce Joly,” (my sweet joly)_ he cuddled up closer to him and Joly happily opened his arms to pull him closer. At first how intimate Joly and his partners had been was strange to Grantaire especially when their level of seemingly romantic intimacy extended to Grantaire, but he’d grown to love it. It didn’t mean anything (Joly already had two partners he surely didn’t need another one) but it was kind and it was the sort of thing that made him realise that he had been incredibly lonely for a long time before them. Even while living with his boyfriend he’s never, ever felt so loved.  

Joly raked a hand through Grantaire’s curls “Are you okay?”

Grantaire frowns “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

Joly shrugs “I don’t know, I just worry about you.” Grantaire wanted to tell him not to but knew it was probably pointless anyway. “You’ve been getting along with Enjolras quite well,” he left out the usual level of sly hinting that he usually used when he was teasing him.

Grantaire shrugged “He’s,” great “I don’t know I like him, I enjoy his company and all but I don’t know if I goes both ways if I’m being honest,” he squirms. “I mean I know he doesn’t detest me but I,” he breaks off in frustration not really sure of what he’s trying to communicate.

Joly continues stroking his hair and says soothingly “Of course he does, how could he not love you, _mon garçon stupide” (my stupid boy)_ he chided fondly.

Grantaire shrugged feeling strangely small and vulnerable, he didn’t want to voice anything to Joly because he’d only worry. Plus surely it was better to try and ignore was was wrong instead of confronting it. Confronting what’s wrong always went down the same path for Grantaire and that path was a steady one of self destruction. As if reading his thoughts Joly gave him a small kiss on the forehead, “Let's go get you ready to do some dancing.”

~~~

Enjolras woke up on Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s couch that very same morning. His notes had been artfully dumped onto the floor and his laptop tucked away. He was confused to find himself awake somewhere that wasn’t his own bed and covered in a slightly scratchy quilt. He decided he probably wasn’t kidnapped and looked for his phone. By the time he’d checked twitter he was awake enough to know that this was in fact Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s apartment. The time told him that it was late enough that he should probably be getting ready to leave, but he found himself not having the willpower to rise from the squishy, purple couch. He decided to instead text Combeferre.

_to; Combeferre;_

_coffee please ?!_

He heard a groan from the other room followed by Combeferre yelling through the wall _“Vous êtes tellement paresseux Enjolras!”(you are so lazy enjolras)_ but despite this dramatic proclamation moments later he wandered past him on the way to the kitchen “You’re glad I was on my way to make some anyway.”

Enjolras responded sleepily _“Je t'aime aussi ‘Ferre." (I love you too)_ .He fell asleep again as if demonstrating jsu how much he was no a morning person, until the sweet scent of coffee awoke him. He sat up straight to accept the cup (which was artfully decorated in “kawaii butt” print as Courf had described it so beautifully). He murmured praise to Combeferre as he sipped the coffee thankfully, and with each one he slowly became more human. “When is Courf leaving?”

Combeferre had sat down on the arm chair adjacent to the couch and he replied “Soon, maybe twenty minutes or less. He’s in the shower right now but I would start getting ready if I was you.”

Enjolras took a moment to drink the rest of the coffee before saying, “Thanks again ‘Ferre,” as he flung back the quilt and pulled himself upwards and towards the door. He didn’t bother gathering his notes or his laptop because he would probably just come back to work here later. He did hold his phone firmly in his hand as he made his way across the hall to get ready.

Once he got into his apartment he made his way into his room to try and find some different clothes. He was excited to see both Cosette and Grantaire dancing, especially after Grantaire had said how much he loves it. Enjolras was starting to learn that the things (or in fact people) that Grantaire loves are small in numbers and very carefully selected, but when he loved something it was breathtaking. The way he will look after his friends was undoubtedly endearing, and hearing him talk about something he actually cared about was something that Enjolras enjoyed far more than his sarcastic and cynical rants.

He stumbled his way out of his jeans and hunted around his room to try to find another pair of pants. Combeferre has been trying to convince him of his state of serious hoarding for years but Enjolras was honestly, still in denial. He kept any book he’d ever read or any worksheet or essay just in case he needed it. Honestly the amount of external information he’s saved on hard drives or usb sticks alone was terrifying without the added hard copies. He had a whole plastic container just full of backups for all of his work and photos. And although Enjolras liked a clean living and working space it was a whole other thing to actually accomplish that for himself. He was always too busy to actually put anything in its actual place, instead just kind of leaving things in odd places. That’s why if you opened up his medicine cabinet you would find a copy of _‘The Book Thief’_ and also a metal constructed flower crown from Jehan that he’d gotten for secret santa. Enjolras finally found a dark pair of jeans and slid them with an air of victory. Shirt wise almost everything he owned could be put into the following categories; a gag gift, stolen from a friend, red, some sort of shirt which served as a walking social justice campaign. He went with red. Finally he grabbed a sweater and a jacket and went back across to his friends apartment.

Courfeyrac was sitting on the couch next to Combeferre describing what sounded like a very tragic shampoo mix up as Enjolras looked around for his boots. He figured it wasn't criminal to keep the same pair of socks on (although once he wore the same pair of jeans three days in a row and Courf had to tell him that he was “letting the fam’ down”). Courf saved him from the pain of searching by telling him “You left your shoes in the bathroom last night after you brushed your teeth.”

“Oh, thanks Courf.”

Enjolras disappeared off to grab them and Courf called after him “We’re going in like five minutes so for god sake don’t get caught up staring into your own eyes in the mirror.” Enjolras decided not to dignify that with a response.

He found his shoes, brushed his teeth and ran a brush through his hair which was looking a bit worse for wear. After sleeping on the couch last night one side of it was thoroughly mottled and when he let it down it definitely gave the impression on a vaguely bun shaped heap. He decided after brushing it a few times to simply put it back up into a pile on his head, securing it in place with a piece of red ribbon which he always left tied around his hair brush, or Courf’s hairbrush? He wasn’t sure who owned the hairbrush at this point. He walked back into the lounge and said decidedly “Let's go watch some ballet.”

~~~

Enjolras got a text just before they arrived at Cosette's ballet classroom.

_from: Joly;_

_Look after R today, i think he’s feeling a bit bummed :((_

Then immediately afterwards he sent him three old lady emojis so Enjolras wasn’t really sure want to think of the whole thing.

When they arrived Cosette and Grantaire were already inside and he was holding his jacket limply so it feel partially against the wooden dance floor as he looked around. He looked reasonably happy as far as Enjolras could tell, he seemed to be looking around the room in fond approval. They both turned to Courf and Enjolras as the entered and greetings were exchanged before Cosette rubbed her hands together gleefully “Let's get started.”

Nobody else was here (probably due to the fact that it’s a saturday) and the room was quite spacious. Grantaire tossed his jacket against the wall and that's where Courf decided to sit himself down, Enjolras following his lead. Cosette had her hair tied up with a scrunchie which had little flowers over it, and she wasn’t wearing her proper ballet gear asides from her shoes. She instead was wearing a loose shirt and leggings, which must be some sort of ballet code because Grantaire was dressed very similarly in a tank top and leggings. Courf had reclined against the wall and gave a wolf whistle “Looking good,” he commented slyly as they started to stretch. They simultaneously rolled their eyes at him.

Grantaire did look good, he seemed content in a way that Enjolras hardly ever saw him. In meetings when he first came he always seemed agitated, like he didn’t even want to be there which did irritate Enjolras. He sat at the back, close to the door as if he was about run from the room, Enjolras could understand more now that he knows Grantaire better at least. But here he seemed to have an air of reluctant happiness so it was harder to interpret the text Joly had sent him. Objectively Enjolras also had to admit he looked great, he wore a t-shirt with hacked off sleeves and that showed Grantaire’s arms for the first time, since Paris was slowly waking from a cold winter everyone was seen in a minimum of five layers at all times. The heated dancing room was a different story though and Enjolras was perhaps slightly surprised to see that Grantaire had tattoos. He supposes it isn’t shocking, he had a ring in his nose yet something was still surprising about the ink ingrained into his skin. Over his shoulder he had what looked like a map and on his forearm something smaller which Enjolras couldn’t decipher from this far away. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had anymore tattoos and what they were, why he got them and when. He decided instead to hold his questions in, at least until later.

They both put one of their feet up on the bar near the wall covered in a mirror. Cosette’s shoes were a light pink, like the fading colour of her hair and her shoes were very new and clean looking, laced with a methodical preciseness. Grantaire's by comparison next to hers on the bar look ravaged. They were perhaps white at some point or maybe even a skin tone, you really couldn’t tell. It looked like he had danced through the dirtied Paris streets with those shoes, and they were laced up his leg haphazardly yet not in a careless or ammature way. He looked in short, _wild._

After they had ceased their stretching (which Grantaire was right, it did take quite a long time) Cosette began to walk him through the actual routine. She showed and described to him what they were meant to do in a way that made absolutely no sense to Enjolras at all, but Grantaire was nodding along brow furrowed in concentration. At last Cosette skipped over to her phone and searched for the song. She still seemed nervous that Grantaire was ill prepared for it, repeating over and over again “I don’t expect you to be perfect at first okay, it’s going to take practice.” Grantaire was just rolling his eyes and reassuring her that he knew that and it would be fine.

Fine it was. Enjolras had never been to see ballet himself but he couldn’t really imagine it being any more superb than this. They were not in costume and they both had explained that in a lot of parts for this specific dance in the actual ballet they would be assisted by other dancers, but Enjolras thought it was beautiful all the same. They both giggled a lot and at one point Cosette had to do what looked to basically be a running leap and Grantaire and she just yelped _“Dirty Dancing!”_ before lunging at him and he was too busy laughing to catch her so they both went tumbling onto the floor.

There were also lots of moments where it wasn’t very entertaining though, such as when they had to go over a minute of dancing a million times. The thought that this was only the beginning of this made Enjolras appreciate just how much work Grantaire had committed himself to, yet he seemed perfectly happy. In fact they both were familiar enough with the routine that it didn’t seem to be too much work. Grantaire was of course disadvantaged because he didn’t know exactly how it had been altered to suit Cosette or the two person dynamic and often times he would have to catch himself from doing something how he used to. Although that being said occasionally he would forget and Cosette would ask him to repeat it because she liked his way better. Grantaire also was out of practice and a little out of shape in general. Joly constantly complained that Grantaire didn't eat enough and Enjolras was seeing some of those effects of malnourishment here. He seemed too thin, but there was an underlying sense of strength that must have remained from his dancing days that had not disappeared. He still appeared strong and although it took him a couple tries he did manage to lift Cosette and they both screamed with delight at the success.

Finally they decided that they would reconvene in a few days and started to warm down by stretching out their muscles after they had stripped off their ballet shoes. Grantaire could do the splits much to Courfeyrac’s delight, he seemed to love the sudden large amount of material he had for making sexual innuendos and references. Grantaire laughed good naturedly or rolled his eyes at him and at one point asked “Is this a bad time to mention that I can get my feet behind my head?” And Courf turned to give Enjolras a look which told him ‘I am going to use this to haunt you for years to come.’

As they Cosette was stretching her arms and Grantaire was trying to click his back Courfeyrac decided to start to judge Grantaire’s choice in clothing. “You literally look like you have robbed someone.” Which Enjolras laughed at because he kind of did, because he wore Musichettas t-shirt from Pride a couple years ago which she had cut the sleeves off and also a pair of her dark purple leggings.

Grantaire looked down at himself and said defensively “I didn’t have any dancing appropriate clothes.”

Enjolras grinned “So you stole from you friend, understandable. Was it a hostage situation or did you take them in the night?”

Grantaire was looking at him with mock surprise “Good god he’s making a joke, someone call the press.” Enjolras frowned but decided to let it pass “Also literally look at yourself Enjolras.”

He did as Grantaire said and laughed at himself because he was wearing a sweater which said “ _BAHOREL. PARIS. BOXING. 2012_.” In very bold black letters which made him wonder how he could miss such an obvious thing. “Oh dear, sorry for being such a hypocrite Grantaire,” he told him sincerely but also with another laugh because he couldn’t believe he’d missed something so obvious. He blamed the distracting peak of Grantaire’s tattoo.

Courf butted in then “You’re actually now officially the world's biggest hypocrite,” he turned to Grantaire in glee “His wardrobe is literally eighty percent clothes he has stolen from other people, I think you literally took that jacket from the coat rack this morning because it's Combeferre’s” Grantaire gave Enjolras a bemused look as he shrugged back in response. “Seriously do not leave any of your shit around him,” Courf warned seriously.

Cosette smiled fondly “Marius told me you somehow stole his shoes in like two thousand and nine or something and he doesn’t even know how. It haunts him, sometimes he’ll just start saying _‘how do you even take someone’s shoes like that, did he drug me?’_ ”

Enjolras gave a slightly annoyed huff of laughter as everyone else laughed at him. “I didn’t drug Marius and steal his shoes oh my god.”

After they were all finished teasing him Cosette put on her sweater which had Belle and Ariel kissing on it and grabbed her gym bag as Grantaire also put on a sweatshirt and grabbed his things. Enjolras gathered his (or Combeferre’s jacket he supposes) and stands up as Courf turns and wiggles his eyebrows mouthing “So flexible.” Enjolras wasn’t impressed especially when he continued to whisper “And did you see that dancers ass.” And he probably would have continued if Cosette and Grantaire hadn’t come over to join them.

Cossette was driving home so she bid them farewell and headed off. Grantaire on the other hand didn’t seem to have really thought of a plan on how to get home simply shrugging “This isn’t too far from my apartment, I’ll walk or something.”

Courf wasn’t going to tolerate that but also seemed confused “Wait I thought you lived with Joly and company?”

He laughs “Well I mean I practically do, but no I do actually have my own place.”

Courf seemed only further confused “But didn’t you sleep there last night? And like all your stuff is there in the side room?”

Grantaire shrugged “They have more room and a nicer bed than I do.”

Courf seemed like he was only going to further this interrogation so Enjolras decided to cut in by saying “We’ll give you a ride over there then.”

Grantaire considered it but then shook his head “No I think they’ll want a night alone. Trust me if you think being the third wheel is bad you should try being the fourth wheel, truly atrocious.”

Courf tugged on Grantaire’s green sweatshirts sleeve “Fine then come over to ours then, you and Enjolras can bond over how terrible it is to live with couples.”

Grantaire frowned in confusion and because of this confusion he was being lead in the direction of Courf’s car “Wait I thought you had your own place?” He asked Enjolras as he followed along what was really just a friendly kidnapping.

“I do but I lived with Combeferre when he first moved into the city and then Courf also moved into the apartment. After a year or so I moved out into the apartment right across the hall, which was honestly kind of relieving.” Courfeyrac made a noise of the utmost offense giving him a scowl and he practically stuffed Grantaire into the back of his shitty silver car. Enjolras hopped in the back with Grantaire continuing “It’s not like it sucked living with my two best friends or anything but like they were kind of insufferable.”

Courf grumbled something about looking in the mirror as he started the car. “I resent that.”

Grantaire found this all quite amusing asking, “When did you all meet, at school?”

Enjolras answered from beside him as Courf pulled slightly abruptly into the street. “I actually meet Combeferre online when I was in high school then we were going to both go to a university in the city and he lived just a little bit out of Paris so he moved in and we ended up living together. Courf we met at school though yeah.”

Courf nodded assuredly “Yes and I immediately thought that they were the two biggest nerds I have ever met in my whole life,” to which Grantaire laughed a little too enthusiastically in Enjolras’s opinion.

Enjolras said solemnly “And I thought Couf wanted to sleep with the both of us,” which made Grantaire choke on his laughter in surprise.

Courfeyrac looked in the mirror and told him very seriously “And I did,” with a very sultry wink. “I only locked one down but oh well, I can take a hint. Once in a club I tried to dance with Enjolras and I thought he was going to cry, poor thing.”

Enjolras sighed loudly in annoyance “I was not going to cry, it was just a little unexpected to be suddenly being danced on by someone I met like a week ago in literally the world's shittest and cheapest gay club.” Enjolras personally had not even wanted to be there that night but had been convinced to go along anyway to try and take his mind off work for a while. Enjolras in general wasn’t very comfortable with people being overly sexual around him so clubs were not really his favourite place in the world. Courfeyrac had apologised the day after and Enjolras had explained that it was nothing personal, he was just very demisexual. Despite these clashing personalities they ended being very good friends since this sort of unspoken agreement had been settled with them.

Grantaire shook his head with a small smile on his lips “That’s amazing, I want to hear all the stories about Enjolras being bewildered in gay clubs.”

Courf hummed in agreement “You could witness one yourself if the pair of you weren’t hermits, honestly everytime we go out you both are the ones to turn me down without any real excuse. You need to go out, drink and make out with people in alleyways, this is what our young years are all about!”

“I think you do enough of that for everyone,” Enjolras replied slyly.

“Have I ever told you that you’re kind of a bastard.”

~~~

Enjolras and Courfeyrac dropped Grantaire off at his building and Courf looked a little bit wary of the mere appearance of it, even though in Grantaire’s opinion it was much worse inside. Getting to the second story was hard because there were a shit ton of the shadiest people in Paris living in that building, he secretly thought his neighbour might have murdered her husband but he really just didn’t question it at this point. He had at first been very unaccustomed to even this level of poverty and outright illegal shit even considering where he came from, it was when a woman died in the building from heroine that Grantaire stopped trying to figure out what went on behind closed doors.

As he exited the car he pulled out a cigarette slipping it in between his lips before turning back “Thanks for the ride, see you later.” Both Enjolras and Courf replied with their goodbyes as Grantaire closed the door and made his way into his building. He lit his cigarette carefully, he was running low although this wasn’t as much of an issue now he worked at the Musain. He tried not to think about the extra money he was generating now because although it was good, he also didn’t look at the extra money and see that as something to buy new clothes or anything with, he saw it as booze money. It was old habits really and this was years of a bad habit that he had not been able to kick yet. He tried, burying himself in work, starting over in a new city with new people, denying offers to go out to clubs or to bars.

Grantaire got in and decided to busy himself in cleaning his apartment to occupy his hands and his mind. The cupboards above the sink largely contained whatever art gear he kept in his own place and below the sink where a couple more actual home related things along with some of his clothes. The rest of which were either strewn around the floor or in the small cabinet he has. He put everything back where it ought to be which didn’t take him nearly as long as he hoped, the most time occupying task was organising his books which were stacked in piles around his mattress like a bed heading of knowledge.

Since he was due this months rent soon he figured he would drop it down now which again only took him a few minutes. This was the trouble of not owning a phone that did shit or a laptop, it’s hard as fuck to kill time. He checked his phone but didn’t really have the energy to start a conversation with anybody. The more he tried not to think of the liquor store just five minutes away from him the more he did, as was usually the struggle.

He made it until nine at night before he couldn’t do it any longer, no matter how hard he tried to occupy his time no matter how hard he tried to tell himself he was okay it was all a distraction and a lie keeping him from feeling good. He knew that alcohol didn’t mix well with his mental health as countless past instances have proved but he could never deny that when he drank he felt less shit and less like he was out of control. He slipped on a coat and slunk out of the apartment, the whole time from walking there, buying it and coming back his heart was pounding. He felt simultaneously like he was fucking up and that he was enthralled in his anticipation. Grantaire was enslaved by the constant need to drink, to feel like the weight in his stomach had disappeared and like his body was gone. Sometimes he felt like he was just hands and eyes, seeing and touching the world without being present, like no one saw his dirtied skin or his scars or skinny frame. It was good for him, those moments however short lived.

He didn’t like how exposed he’d been today. No matter how lovely the dancing had been he was still afraid of himself and how people saw him. He knew it was stupid to ever believe that anyone of Les Amis would judge him for liking ballet or for the scars up his arms but it still scared him. They aren’t walking dictionaries of correct morals, sometimes they have reactions which mirror that of the rest of the human population. Cosette saw but she did not comment and thankfully he thinks that Enjolras and Courfeyrac were too far away. Grantaire didn’t want to share everything with Enjolras, not that he didn’t trust him it's just that they had only known each other for a few months, he wasn’t ready for that particular conversation quite yet.

As for ballet he knew it was stupid, he didn’t think anyone in Les Amis was straight even Marius. But it was hard to deny that he’d had a hard time accepting his bisexuality within himself let alone when that information was let out to the public. His own mother had laughed in his face when she found out, coming out for him to people had never been a good experience. Eponine had really just figured it out as they spent time together but he had told her all the same, she had hugged him which he thought was nice of her. He can imagine that memory the clearest, she smelt like incense and her eyeshadow was golden. Grantaire had painted that memory trying to chase the sensation of understanding and approval she had finally given him. Eponine was his oldest friend, she was always there for him when shit got bad.

Grantaire drank, not pouring it in a cup simply drinking it in deep swings while seated on his bed. Tonight he didn’t want to reminisce about the past or the future because both seemed so undoubtedly unpleasant to him. Tonight he needed to drink, and be drunk and think of nothing at all.


	10. Dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire just felt as though he was stuck in between where he was, and where he is going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait but trust me im making up for it in angst  
> TW: past suicide attempt!! suicide idealization, depression, anxiety/ an anxiety attack, nightmares, drinking and alcoholism, throwing up, self neglect, past abuse, past bullying, past romani racism and slur

_The sound of his phone ringing seemed to echo off the walls as if trying to locate him like dolphins do in nature documentaries. He could hear it as if it was coming through a thick haze. What was happening? He can’t even remember where he was anymore, where was Alec? The ringing was getting softer as if it was moving away, or maybe he was moving. Nothing was making sense._

_He wishes it would stop-_

Grantaire was jolted awake and felt as though he had just been running through the rain, his body covered in a cold sweat. He felt far too hot and far too cold all at once, it reminded him of a fever he had as a child, his mother had left to get him medicine and didn’t return for three days, he should have known better.

Rising from the mattress took far too long, the small room seemed distorted and not quite to him. He didn’t understand why this was until his foot hit a bottle making it clatter to the floor. He felt like shit served on toast and the walk to his cupboards to find something to soothe his hangover was nothing short of a marathon. It still took a lot of booze to get him drunk unfortunately, he could remember when he first started drinking and after a few glasses of wine in he’d already start to feel buzzed.

He found what he believed was some form of aspirin or maybe ibuprofen and popped them out onto his hand. Eponine used to come around and take away and pills he kept around his place and he was very glad she’d stopped that routine at this moment. He stumbled back to bed and immediately fell back into a less disturbed sleep.

The second time he awoke he felt less shit which was a relief to him. Less relieving was how he already ached to drink more. He’d been trying to cut back but fuck what was even the point, he’d probably die from smoking before his liver got to him anyway right? Eponine had been the one to urge him to follow her to Paris, to push him to apply for a scholarship, to urge him to take it, to try and stop him from drinking himself to death. She was undoubtedly a force of nature, but she couldn’t do everything. Plus she had her own shit to deal with and a little brother to look after.

Grantaire checked his phone for the time and was pretty fucking surprised when it told him that it was seven in the evening. If he was going to relapse he may as well do it properly right? So for the second night in a row he slipped out of his apartment and went to the little glowing liquor store down the street. This time he got two bottles of gin and some cheap ass wine. It was amazing how quickly within the space of him having money and now that he’s managed to already blow it on alcohol, he’d knew getting a job wasn’t a good idea. Yet how was he meant to refuse with Enjolras staring at him like he might not be dirt at his feet.

Enjolras. Damn that man.

He poured himself some wine into a mug like a civilized person before digging around for art supplies. He kept the majority of his stuff at Joly and companies house but he always had enough stuff on hand to work from home if he needed to.

Art and himself had always had a strange relationship. He remembers clearly being reported to the nurse office one day when he was seven or so because he’d gotten into a fight with the other boys because they called him a gypsy. Even when he was little he knew a slur when he heard one. But the nurse took him into the room and there on the wall was the first piece of proper art he’d ever seen. He’d turned to her with big eyes asking “Miss, what is that?“ When she looked at him in confusion he elaborated “On the wall?” She followed his eyes to a framed and very low quality copy of Van Gogh’s Self Portrait 1889. She answered “That's a Van Gogh painting, he’s very famous.” The rest of the time he’d just stared into those painted eyes and he felt strange looking at this painting, he felt something he didn’t understand.

He stole a book with that painting in it before he left his high school, he still owned it and had cut out the picture to put it on his wall. Grantaire loved art in the same way he loved boxing or ballet or drinking shit coffee is shady Paris cafe’s. Displaying his art or his opinions was still something he struggled with however, it seemed like something very personal to him still. Eponine had asked him why that painting still made him so emotional and Grantaire was struck with the inability to describe why.

His art teacher said he’s good, he got a full arts scholarship into his school with the help of Eponine who encouraged him to apply. His art at that time was scary, he didn’t like to look at it anymore. In fact he kept all those old works at Eponine’s place on her own assistance. Grantaire wanted to throw them away but she told him sternly that he should never forget where he has come from.

Now he felt like his art was in more of a limbo, the still reasonably fresh city and people was still a main source of inspiration but Grantaire just felt as though he was stuck in between where he was, and where he is going. He didn’t know where he was going though. Forwards hopefully.

People had not always been a subject he’d focused on especially before he came here but in the new Paris atmosphere with Les Amis he found himself being drawn to portraiture in a way he never had been before. He has painted Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta but still felt too shy to show them quite yet.

As he painted he drank. Sometimes he would sketch up a guideline to follow before putting paint to canvas but when he was drinking he usually didn’t want to dick around too much. The paint he used was thick and moved with ease across the canvas as the colors began to spell out a figure.

He wonders if he should call Eponine, she would be upset to know that he’s doing this again and honestly Grantaire might be upset as well if he didn’t feel so tired about it all. Painting didn’t make him feel tired though, it made him feel more awake and alive then he felt any other time in his life. Painting in theory was quite boring, hours of applying layers of paint that may not even look good in the end but somehow Grantaire found it thrilling. As thrilling as dancing even, or fighting, like he was accomplishing something, like he was winning. And in that he was able to completely lose himself.

~~~

The third time Grantaire woke up it was dark and his head still hurt. He fumbled his way to the curtains to let in the soft street glow of the city in. His hands were covered in acrylic paint as if he’d been finger painting and not using a brush at all. The canvas was large, about as big as his torso and there he found the small and determined figure of Cosette. It was a good painting, perhaps it was the wine that did that. On that thought he decided he should get something to drink.

There was still wine left so he poured himself some more as he once again looked for some form of painkiller. It was a very familiar routine to him, he half expected to have the feeling of a black eye from Alec getting pissed at him.

He downed the pills with his wine. Sometimes in an oddly twisted way he misses him. Not because he was the world's best boyfriend or anything, but he misses it. Grantaire treated men as a form of self punishment half of the time. Letting himself be mistreated by older and violent men because that's what he deserved. The women he was with were always much gentler, usually as sad or fucked up as he was. Not that he really had many relationships beyond one night stands in his life. Relationships, an honest to god healthy romantic relationship was something he wanted like how plants crave sunlight yet he felt as though it was unattainable. He hated how he sounded like a cliche, fifteen year old, emo kid but he did not really understand who the fuck would love him.

This was at the very core of all his problems really, his intense self hatred. Having people in his life who loved him, had helped but that was never enough. He knows he has people in his life and people who love him but that's doesn’t mean anything to him because he can’t see the reasons for himself. It helped but it was not enough.

On that thought he got the gin.

~~~

The next couple days seemed to be repeating similarly. Grantaire didn’t understand why it had hit him so suddenly but he did know that he felt like absolute shit. On the tuesday he couldn’t even rise to get himself booze or painkillers. He got up twice to get himself some water and then to go to the bathroom.

On the wednesday he listened to music in his bed for half the day without it even feeling like more than about an hour. When Grantaire got to this sort of point his sense of time got seriously fucked up. He listened to The Smiths and smoked the last of his cigarettes away. Finally he ate something that day, his stomach had started to hurt so much it was unbearable. In his hurry he ate too quickly and ended up vomiting in his sink before sinking to the kitchen floor to sleep. That was undoubtedly the rock bottom of those few days.

Grantaire lay there his mouth tasting disgusting, of vomit and of alcohol. Without having showered since saturday or perhaps even before then he was filthy, having sweated in his sleep from nightmares. And to top off that lovely picture he had covered his hoodie and his hands in paint, it was probably also in his hair although Grantaire correctly assumes that his hair is probably beyond saving now.

In short he was a fucking mess. He remembers the last time he was on the floor like this, the last time he had felt so utterly miserable like this. He had been gasping softly as Eponine called an ambulance gripping his hand and staring straight into his eyes. She had been crying, her eyes not rimmed with makeup but with redness because of it. Grantaire tried not to think about that night, tried not to think about what would have happened if Eponine hadn’t panicked and come to him to find him dying on the bathroom floor. He doesn’t know whether he was even grateful half the time, he knows at the time he was angry with her, angry because she didn’t let him die like he should have.

Grantaire felt like he was dying all over again gasping suddenly as if his chest was being constricted. Why did this always happen to him, why could he not fucking breathe and be happy ever in his whole fucking life.

His phone was ringing.

_His phone was ringing_

Grantaire was gasping on the kitchen floor on his side in confusion and pain.

_Grantaire was gasping of breath on the bathroom floor on his back, dear god let him fucking die._

Grantaire didn’t know where his phone was he was too afraid he just wanted the noise to stop.

_Fuck I’m sorry Eponine ._

Grantaire blacked out.


	11. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would Grantaire fight and die for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW; alcoholism, smoking, hair cutting, self hate stuff, self harmful behavior, past sexual assault, past violence, discussion of rape, slut shaming or victim baling towards themselves.

Paris looked divine, simply aglow, buzzing in her darkness the streets covered in filth and people walk hand in hand love in their eyes. Paris was nothing if not a city of compositions, piss covered pavement and they call it the city of love on the brochures. People huddle out in the cold with no place to go home to and Grantaire wonders how long it will be before he becomes one of them, how the tourists will look away from his eyes to look at the buildings. Paris was beauty but it was also pain, founded on blood and rebellion and passion. You could not have one without the other and Grantaire saw it all so clearly, never denying the darkness in the Paris streets to instead revel in the brightness of its beauty. With them both existing it only made the other more beautiful surely. That such sadness exists in a beautiful place, or that a place can be so beautiful when it contains such sadness. He wonders if he will die in Paris, or in fact if he will live in Paris until he does, there were worse places to die he supposes.

The dark and quiet of his place was different from this, it reminded him of a Church in many ways and he was ready to pray to the only God who favoured him and that was the God of misfortune. He tried desperately not to think of how long he had been drink free before now, he’d already crossed that line and he would pay his penance. But for now sinning was his worship was in session. He had gone to the floor like a holy priest might do and he drank.

In the true throws of his alcoholism he wondered if his lips were only made for drinking, his body a vessel like a bottle and his mind was made to be poisoned, to be erased. Those times were simple although vastly terrible. He was a ship never meant to reach the shore, always destined to hit the shore and run aground. There was no escape from this sinking ship and as his body's own captain he was determined to go down with it.

He at least had better people around him though. Eponine had always been there and she had been his saving grace when he needed her most but now he had Joly, Musichetta and Bousset, and he had the rest of Les Amis. His thoughts turned to Enjolras naturally, in such a vulnerable state he couldn’t deny himself that. If he was a sinking ship then Enjolras was the sun, burning up and so bright he could hardly look at him. Grantaire tried very hard not to idolise him to a point of dehumanization but he could not help that Enjolras was everything he thought he hated but he seems to actually need. His passion and his love radiate from every pore in his body and it aches to look at him. Grantaire in comparison feels like a peice of shit, like offering himself to him would be an insult to Enjolras. Who would want him when they could have the whole world.

Despite this logic Grantaire thinks that if Enjolras ever asked of him anything, he would do it all.

And to that he could most certainly drink. He felt shaken when thinking about these things. Enjolras seemed to know such intimate things about him yet Grantaire still knew almost nothing about him. He longs to know more, to understand Enjolras, to know why he feels such an undying love for the goodness at the heart of humanity to such an extent he is willing to fight and die for it.

What would Grantaire fight and die for?

~~~

“Grantaire! Grantaire!” He felt his body being shook by someone and he wished that it would disappear. “Musichetta he’s not getting up,” he could recognise Joly’s voice although the meaning of that didn’t really register with him.

Grantaire let out a moan of confusion and displeasure and Joly made a soft noise of relief before saying very softly, “Grantaire?”

He risked opening his eye very slightly and he could see Jolys very upset but reasonably composed face, Granaire managed to only nod at him not trusting his voice.

“Grantaire do you feel okay?” Joly asked him, Musichetta was lingering by the kitchen chewing her nails.

Grantaire managed to only nod again, he didn’t want to move he didn’t want to speak.

Joly was leaning into him and speaking quietly and very kindly “Grantaire I think you should come to our house, I,” he seemed to choke off as if not knowing what to say “I think you're unwell and we can look after you at our house okay?”

Grantaire nodded once more and after a pause slowly admitted, forcing the words out of his mouth “I don’t know if I can get up Joly.” He tasted vomit at the back of his throat.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. We can help you up.”

Grantaire said in such a  small voice “Can you get my jacket?” Musichetta had it in a flash and brought it to him, and he managed to sit up and put it on himself. He felt exhausted and he didn’t want to leave his house even though he knows that he needed to go. With Joly at his side they helped him leave.

~~~

Enjolras had received a text from Joly urgently asking if anyone had heard from Grantaire since saturday which was rather alarming. It had only been a few days and surely nothing could have happened? He’d seen him just the other day after all.

Grantaire was strange to him, he wasn’t unpleasant, in fact he was undoubtedly pleasent in his own way but he still was frustrated by his lack of passion. He knows it's not Grantaire's fault for having a bad life and assuming the worst in people at first, he understands that. Yet Grantaire is so kind despite all the things that might have made him a horrible person. And he is intelligent, devouring books that take Enjolras months to process as if it is as easy as breathing to him.

Enjolras was confused by him but he did not detest him that was for certain. He wishes he was able of detesting him, maybe then his chest wouldn’t clench in fear when he received these sorts of texts.

~~~

He woke up on Friday in Joly, Bossuet and Musichettas spare bedroom which was littered with his belongings. Eponine and Joly were sitting side by side drinking something warm out of decorative mugs. It was Joly who first noticed that Grantaire had began to stir, his eyes fluttering open and squinting at the room.  He whacked Eponine and said “Hey,” his voice soft and wary.

Grantaire turned to his side to look at them both “Hi?” he said uncertainly as if it was a question.

Joly blew out a breath as Eponine asked “Are you feeling okay? You’ve been asleep for a while we were starting to regret not taking you to the hospital.”

He started to sit up at which Joly stood to help him, but he waved them off “I’m feeling okay actually yeah, what,” he paused in confusion “Who came to my place?”

“Musichetta,” answered Joly softly.

Grantaire sighs sinking into the bed further “Who knows about this?”

Eponine says “Let's not think about that right now love, let's get some food into you, then have a shower?”

That undoubtedly means that everyone knows then but he decides to bypass this for now (dear god he hopes Enjolras was not subjected to this story though) “Yeah that sounds good.”

The rest of the day went as Eponine suggested, he ate and then showered and then Joly made him be subjected to making sure he wasn’t concussed or anything which Grantaire felt like was a bit extreme. Joly seemed dissatisfied with how Grantaire refused to take this seriously but Eponine on the other hand was more than used to Grantaire using humour to avoid serious topics.

Joly decided that he needed a second opinion on Grantaire’s physical wellbeing so he called Combeferre and told him to come around immediately. Eponine sided with Grantaire this time saying that he was going to be okay and that he’d gotten blackout drunk a lot worse than this before, which really didn’t soothe Joly at all. In the end Musichetta had to come in and take him off for a while to calm him down.

Grantaire was _fine_ he knew that. Physically he was going to be fine what happened was more mentally related than anything else, he definitely wasn’t about to spontaneously combust or anything. More than anything he just wanted to sleep more, get back to his apartment to where it's cold and quiet all the time. Everybody here kept talking in hushed whispers and the apartment was heated which was foreign to Grantaire.

By the time the doorbell rang his annoyance had reached its peak and he felt ready to just hobble his way off down the street and away from all these people. Eponine stuck by him the whole time though, keeping a quiet and calm presence. As the others went to get the door she did finally turn to him though. “I thought you were doing better.”

Grantaire sighed “I thought so as well.”

“You should have called.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked staring at him her eyes detailed with a cat flicked eyeliner, she was good at that he thought idly to himself.

He didn’t have time to respond because by the time he had drawn his eyes away from her eyeliner Combeferre had come into the room and naturally because there was no God, Enjolras was behind him. Kill me now.

Enjolras sat politely beside Eponine without a word although he was looking at Grantaire intently in the eyes. Combeferre went through asking him a list of things that was basically the same as Joly had done yet Joly stood by the door chewing on his nails nervously as if Combeferre was going to know something he wasn’t able to figure out. At the end of it he had the same conclusion “Eat some proper meals, sleep a normal amount and don’t drink for a while and you’ll be fine.”

Musichetta spoke up suddenly from behind Joly “You know what you need?”

“An intervention?” He asks because he feels like this is where this has all been heading.

“A haircut,” she says instead.

Grantaire thought about it for a second and to be honest he kind of loved the idea, at least it was better than them all sitting around talking about how his alcoholism affected them or some shit. And honestly his hair was starting to feel fucking annoying around his face. “Yes let's do it now.”

Eponine stood “I'll go get the scissors.”

Musichetta clapped her hands together “Okay everyone into the lounge please.”

Grantaire stood and swayed slightly on his feet, Enjolras was the closest to him so he reached out and grabbed Grantaire around his middle. Suddenly Grantaire felt like he surely actually was going to faint with Enjolras far too intimately pressed up against him. He breathed out “I’m fine you can let go now.” Enjolras looked almost surprised that he was still holding on at all and backed away respectfully.

Everyone headed into the lounge apart from Combeferre and Joly who went into the kitchen to have some food or something like that. Grantaire was fairly sure Joly just needed to eat some food and have a moment alone.

Musichetta pulled out a chair for him with a flourish as Eponine returned with scissors in one hand and a hair clipper in the other. Grantaire sat dutifully as the two of them circled him like lionesses hunting their prey. “What are you thinking?” asks Eponine finally standing still in front of him.

“I would tell you just to buzz it all off but i wouldn’t want you to think I've gone all Britney spears on you.”

Musichetta hums “What about an undercut,” to which Eponine makes a noise of agreement to in response, Musichetta turns to Enjolras then who had been sitting quietly on the couch watching them all decide the fate of Grantaire’s head, “What do you think Enjolras? Undercut?”

“Um,” he shuffled his feet a little before looking at Grantaire “Yeah that would be nice?”

Musichetta frowned at him, grumpy and displeased with his lack of opinion “Boys are useless.” Grantaire was half expecting some sort of rant about gender roles at that but he just smiled to himself, he was never going to figure that man out.

Eponine runs her hands through his hair pulling it up and away from his face and into a small ponytail. She then started to pull down any parts which she was going to cut off. She was mindful especially below his temple where he had a scar which ran from his cheekbone and then into his hairline. He saw Enjolras looking and said “Bar fight.”

Enjolras frowned “Why were you in a bar fight?”

Eponine stiffened and said with a small amount of hostility “You can drop the judgemental tone okay pretty, rich boy?”

He looked shocked at that “What?”

Grantaire turned to give Eponine a look “Okay Eponine it's fine just, he's not being a dick there’s no need to get all shitty,” he turned back to Enjolras then “Some dude was being a dick, I hit him, he hit me, that’s usually how these things go. Eponine is still unhappy about it.”

She ran a brush through his recently washed hair with perhaps too much force “Being a dick is the biggest understatement possibly ever-”

“Eponine,” he warned, Grantaire really didn’t want to talk about it.

She blew out air from her noise angrily “Fine.”

Muschetta who had joined Enjolras on the sofa was frowning but they both decided not comment. Grantaire sighed “Sorry Eponine, you know I just prefer not to think about that sorta shit.”

Eponine's brushing became more gentle and she said softly “I know it’s fine.” But Eponine squared her jaw and turned back to Enjolras “Sorry for snapping at you.”

Enjolras nodded “It’s fine, I understand being protective about your friends.”

She smiles as she picks up the hair clippers, and as she starts to shave the sides on Grantaire’s head she asks him conversationally “I hear you guys have meetings where you talk about social justice shit and stuff?”

Musichetta cuts in “Eponine and I basically bonded over feminism she has some really amazing viewpoints.”

Enjolras smiles “Yeah we meet on Friday afternoons, you’re more than welcome to come if you’re interested. Although this week we’re obviously not going to since this is Friday”

“Maybe I can make up for the fact that I hear Grantaire just sits in the back moodily,” she says with a smirk as Grantaire rolls his eyes at her. “What sort of stuff do you talk about?”

He thinks for a moment “Anything really, we mainly focus on human rights or politics, but if anyone really wants to talk or something about the planet or animals or anything that's also welcome. Most of the time we focus on racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, sexism and so on and so forth. Which obviously for each of those things there are many things to discuss within that so we’re never short of things to talk about sadly.”

She hums thoughtfully “Head down Grantaire love,” she shaves into the nape of his neck concentrating very hard before telling Grantaire “You should listen to that shit.”

Even with his head down Enjolras could tell Grantaire was frowning, “I do listen it's just not really for me.”

She groans in frustration and Musichetta an Enjolras can tell that this is a very well worn conversation. “I don’t get how you’re so unaffected by shit that affects you R, you mysterious little man.”

Grantaire snorts at her. “Honestly I don’t really know why I’m not really affected it’s not like I haven’t faced plenty of my own prejudice and all that shit, it’s not like I don’t understand what you’re all talking about. I guess I just don’t really see what we can do about it.”

Enjolras looked kind of sad at that before saying softly “You can’t see how we’re helping when you don’t look Grantaire, you should,” he hesitated in a way that seemed slightly out of character “You should come to an event, it’s next month and it’s kind of a pride mixed with a protest.” Grantaire was already frowning doubtfully, “I just thought you might be interested since you’re not straight and you want to actually see how we’re helping.” Enjolras explained.

Eponine asks “Can I come?”

Looking away from Grantaire's eyes he looks at Eponine in surprise as if forgetting that she was there at all before saying very sincerely “Of course.”

She smiled “It sounds like fun, I’m ready to get my angry queer on and I’ll drag this grumpy bisexual along with me whether we wants to go or not!” She whacks Grantaire on the shoulder with a happy laugh, despite himself Grantaire smiles he already knows that he’ll be going if Eponine is.

Musichetta started discussing something to do with the event with Enjolras so they talked for a while while Eponine worked away. Finally she let out a breath “Okay you’re done, what do you think guys?”

He had no idea what he looked like but Musichetta squealed happily and said something encouraging and kind to him but Enjolras’s reaction was the one he was much more focused on.

Enjolras had an odd look on his face, eyebrows drawn together as if he was displeased yet he was staring at Grantaire with lips slightly parted. If Grantaire didn’t know better he would almost call it awe. Instead he smirks “You like it?”

Enjolras blinked rapidly before saying in a very stilled voice “It’s, uh,” Musichetta gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, “It’s good.”

With his confusing response Grantaire stood to go and look in the bathroom mirror. It actually looked pretty good, his hair was still a curly mop but i slightly more fashionable curly mop. The sides and back were gone with enough for him to still scoop it up and into a small ponytail, which is what he did before heading back.

Musichetta looked gleeful, rapidly texting someone while also doing what looked like teasing the shit out of Enjolras. In response he just glared a very specific space on the wall. Poor wall, he’d been victim to Enjolras’s rage enough to know it was not a nice feeling.

Eponine asked with a smirk “What do you think?”

“It’s good,” he answered with a smile at her, he kept thinking about how Enjolras had looked at him, “I’m going to go out and have a smoke.”

She nodded as she swept up his hair and Grantaire disappeared off. He slipped out of the window and onto the fire escape from the spare room. Coming out here was something he did very often and he liked it out there, suspended up so high smoking away his troubles. His ashes fell like leaves into an old china dish that Jehan had left here once. He wishes Enjolras was not here, that he did not have to see that he was right about what he had initially thought of Grantaire, how he was a mess and an alcoholic. It would be better if Grantaire could prove that all wrong, it would be better if he was the sort of person that would be worthy of Enjolras’s kindness or concern. Of his love.

Grantaire does not make a habit out of thinking about relationships given his track record, but late at night it was hard to deny he was painfully alone. A feeling like someone had scooped out his chest and he was collapsing in on himself, the bed was too cold. Sleeping alone was hard and so was trying to trust anyone enough to lay beside them at night and actually rest at all.

If his life was easier perhaps he would pursue men and women of all sorts trying to find love and happiness, but for the real Grantaire it seemed nothing short of a completely abstract concept. In his altrnate universe perhaps he would try to be the sort of person who could ever be with Enjolras.

It was as if he was summoned by his thoughts, he heard the window slide open and Enjolras’s legs came through the window. Halfway through pulling himself outside he said suddenly “Can I join you?”

Grantaire smiles taking a drag of his cigarette “Sure.”

Enjolras came and sat next to him on the fire escape resting his back against the wall as if he was exhausted. He watched Grantaire smoke silently to himself before saying “Your hair really does look good.”

He smiles at Enjolras ignoring the butterflies in his stomach “Thank you.”

It seemed like something was bothering him but Grantaire waited until he spoke first. He finally did asking slowly “Why did you fight that guy in the bar? Did he do something to Eponine?”

Grantaire snorted “No I think Eponine could handle that easily herself, no he was just being an ass.”

“Yeah but ‘oh man I don’t like this person’ or ‘I should call the cops’ sort of an ass?”

“Eponine would argue the later I guess, it wasn’t even that bad she just gets pissy whenever people get all handsy around me,” He tries to shrug it off because he really didn’t want Enjolras to think he was some sort of bar whore on top of all this shit he’d heard about him today.

He instead looked alarmed “So he was touching you when you didn’t want him to?” Grantaire shrugged refusing to meet Enjolras’s eyes “Grantaire you get that that’s sexual assault right?” He shrugged again but this time Enjolras was insistent “No I’m serious Grantaire tell me you know that.”

Grantaire turned and snapped “It was nothing okay just drop it, that’s not what it was.”

“Really?” he asks doubtfully. “Are you going tell me next, that non consensual sex isn’t rape?”

He felt like running away but there was nowhere to escape “I don’t know,” he answered instead miserably.

Enjolras was staring at him he could feel it before he heard a soft sigh “I’m sorry I should never have asked it’s hardly my place, it just worries me.” Grantaire does not understand why he would. “I mean we have all these meetings about this sort of stuff yet someone who goes to every meeting doesn’t understand what sexual assault is?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “That kind of makes me feel like I’m doing a shitty job.”

He tries not to just shrug again, “Maybe I’m just dumb,” Enjolras had his mouth open to argue before he carried on quickly “Maybe you should talk about it then, to educate everyone.”

Enjolras hums in agreement “I mean it’s pretty basic? But most people don’t ever want to talk about it that's why so many people have no idea. Your misunderstanding isn’t stupidity Grantaire it’s just ignorance. I never want to make you feel like your dumb for not knowing these things because you're not.” Grantaire risks looking over to him and he was playing with the drawstring from his hoodie. “Safe, sane, sober, consensual are the main things to know, without even one of those things that immediately becomes not okay alright?”

“Okay,” he replies weakly. And something suddenly occurred to Grantaire “Wait what about the meeting today?”

Enjolras looks at him like he might be kidding “Well obviously we’re not having it, we were all too worried to see if you were okay.”

That makes him want to sigh loudly for ten hours “Seriously what is it with you people, I’m fine, it was nothing.”

“We all care about you, and what happened wasn’t okay.”

Grantaire didn’t believe him. He wonders what they would think if they knew the half of it, if they knew how much he truly drank, smoked and hurt himself. He voiced this by saying simply “There are worse ways to hurt yourself.”

To his surprise Enjolras shuffled closer and was basically resting his head on Grantaire’s shoulder with a sigh, it was hesitant and he was hardly even touching him really but Grantaire still felt like he was exploding. Enjolras suddenly said “Next weekend Courf and Combeferre are having a party at our apartment on the roof, do you want to come?”

He would be lying if he said that this sudden change in subject wasn’t a surprise, he could smell Enjolras’s hair faintly and the blonde curls were tickling his cheek. This all equated to Grantaire not really being at full thinking capacity. “Sure,” he said faintly.

Enjolras sat up properly looking up at him “Really?”

The tip of Enjolras’s nose was so close and Grantaire could have counted the freckles across his cheekbones and he breathed out “Yeah of course I’m sure.” In another world maybe he would kiss him now, another world where Enjolras wasn’t as distant and glowing as the sun and Grantaire's lips wouldn’t have been like kissing an ashtray.

At his response Enjolras smiled, his cheeks had slight dimples in them and his eyes crinkled “Good, I’ll see you then R,” he paused before saying decisively “It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank everyone for the support as someone with shitty writing and a passion for trans characters it means a lot.  
> next time we have the party and enjolras will come out to grantaire !!


	12. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misfortune strikes. Secrets are shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; unsafe binding, not being able to breathe properly, alcohol, self harm scars and a smal discussion abt it, past transphobia, coming out, transphobic parents

Enjolras got home late kicking off his shoes and dumping his things in his apartment before making his way across the hall. Combeferre handed him a warm cup of coffee because he's the best human being in the world. “How was Grantaire?” Courf asks as Combeferre hands him the coffee.

“Alright. Not great but alright.”

Courf hums thoughtfully and after a pause asks “Is it drugs?” After knowing him for so long his forthright behavior had become routine.

In response Enjolras frowns “No, but I think he has a pretty rocky relationship with alcohol. It would probably be good if you stopped inviting him out to bars and stuff? But I’m not sure you would have to ask him.”

Combeferre hummed in agreement and they both settled down together quietly thinking as Courf left the room to go take a call from Jehan. He was roused by his train of thought by Combeferre cleaning his throat “I have to ask you something.”

“Of course, anything.”

Turning his own mug around and around by its handle he asks a little awkwardly “I don’t want to embarrass you I know you prefer privacy when it comes to these sorts of things but,” he paused before finally just giving up and looking up at him. “Do you like Grantaire? Because I’ve never really seen you be so close to somebody so quickly, and certainly not in this way.”

Enjolras frowns into his own coffee “I don’t know, he confuses me.”

Combeferre sympathetically pats his arm “I know this doesn’t happen often I’m sorry for prying.”

And to that he had to admit something which he hated “No you’re right,” he had to look away from him. “I asked him to come to your and Courfs party, and dear god don’t tell Courf this I’m still recovering from him telling me about his dancers ass every two seconds.”

“I know he’s thoroughly enjoying himself, there is nothing Courf loves more that teasing you and talking about ass.”

To that he can only voice his sincere agreement.

“Now go take off your binder and take your contacts out and go the hell to bed,” Combeferre instructed taking away his mug.

He smiled easily “Goodnight Ferre.”

With this he slunk back across the hall and into his apartment. Enjolras did exactly as Combeferre told him, first taking out his contacts and slipping on his glasses which always felt strangely heavy on his face. He brushed his teeth methodically, tied his hair up ruthlessly while looking at how his roots probably were overdue for a touch up. Then he slipped out of his binder and into pajamas. It was always simultaneously a relief and a burden to take off his binder. On one side he often wore it for far too long, from the moment he got changed until the moment he got changed into pajamas which could be anywhere between eight and twelve hours. Understandably that took a toll on his body so physically it was lovely to take it off but mentally it was the thing he dreaded. He was about a thousand dollars short of being able to afford top surgery and he was trying desperately to come up with the money. Until then he had to deal with the pain, physical and mental.

As Enjolras sunk into his bed his thoughts went back to Grantaire and his shaved head, dark eyes and scarred knuckles. It was rare that Enjolras felt pull towards people in anyway but he could hardly deny he knew that this was one of those rare times where it was happening to him. Grantaire was soft and beautiful but he was also wild. Enjolras felt on that fire escape that he had wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

And that was fucking terrifying.

Thinking about kissing a boy while curled up in bed was not like him. Liking Grantaire was not like him. None of this was logical or like him at all. For all he knew Grantaire might secretly not be a good person although he could hardly see that being true. All he really knew is that despite all the hardships he’d faced he was kind and Enjolras wished that tonight he was not alone in this bed.

Fuck.

~~~~~

The party was here. As a general rule Enjolras was not a fan of parties at all, they were loud and they had lots of people there, sometimes people would hit on you. This all just kind of equated to be a nightmare for a small trans guy with a lot of anxiety. It had happened before where a drunken stranger would mistake him for a woman and that was not helpful to soothe dysphoria. In order to stop this Enjolras tended to overcompensate. The party does not start until nine but Enjolras put his binder on the second he got up with was around ten thirty in the morning. He was not in the mood to be misgendered, and especially not in front of Grantaire.

Unfortunately trying to avoid disaster lead to disaster. The maximum time for wearing a binder is recommended to be within six to eight hours. So by doing the maths by putting a binder on at ten thirty in the morning, by nine at night when the party began he was already going far over that.

At nine it was practically dark already and people were already coming up to the roof. The roof in their building was one of Enjolras’s favourite places in Paris. They had bought a bunch of cheap thrift store couches and taken them up there along with a table and a rug. Whenever they had people over they would take it up there and often fall asleep under the weakly twinkling Paris skies with a strong, orange glow of life below them.

Determined to make it through the whole night Enjolras had gone to the side for a breath of air and some personal space. Not too many people were here but there were quite a few people who were unfamiliar to Enjolras which unnerved him. Hooking his thumbs under his binder and lifting it slightly off his chest did help to soothe how tightly it clung to him and stole his breath.

He was resting against the side of the building surveying the street below when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. Enjolras jumped slightly before turning to see Grantaire standing (looking slightly apologetic) behind him. He’d shaved and his hair was toppled up onto his head with just his fringe hanging out. He wore what was perhaps becoming his signature green hoodie and a leather jacket over top.To top off that image his black jeans seemed to cling painfully tight to his thighs. Already Enjolras felt like he was in for more than he could handle by the mere sight of him but all the same he let out a slightly breathless “Hello R.”

Grantaire smiled in return “Hello Enjolras, you look nice of this lovely night.”

Enjolras did not feel that was true, but he still blushed at the complement murmuring a soft “Thank you, so do you,” as he turned away slightly.

Looking behind him Enjolras could see that most of his friends had arrived and were awkwardly dancing with one another and being introduced to the other people here. “How are you?” Enjolras asked softly, after a moment to break the silence settling between them amongst the chatter and music.

Shrugging slightly in response Grantaire shrugged “I’m doing better, it’s been easier not working I guess. Ballet with Cosette has been a good distraction from stuff.” Enjolras looked over to where Cosette was standing with Marius and Grantaire followed his eyes and smiled. “God those two are awkward, it’s going to take them like eight years to get together I bet.”

Enjolras looked up at Grantaire in confusion “What do you mean?”

In return Grantaire looked at him like he might be joking “They are obviously both crushing on each other it's kind of mind blowingly obvious?”

He frowned “Oh, I never noticed,” looking back over at them now he could see how people could come to that conclusion. “I’m never very good at picking up on that sort of stuff.”

At that Grantaire laughed for some reason. “Of course you’re not. Let’s go get a drink.” Enjolras gave him a look but Grantaire just rolled his eyes “I’m just talking about a glass of wine or something okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. Grantaire lead him through the crowd and it was obvious to him now that he was a little tense. Whenever someone yelled too close to them his shoulders would tighten ever so slightly through his jacket. Enjolras eventually reached out and held onto his arm, hoping to be a soothing presence, which seemed for the most part to actually work.

Jehan was sitting on one of the couches wearing a lace dress and cradling a glass of wine by themselves. Grantaire was actually the first to say something with a happy “Hello Jehan, some wine?”

They looked up and smiled back pulling out a bottle and some glasses out from under the couch “Hello there Grantaire,” their eyes went to Enjolras slightly behind him still holding onto his jacket sleeve “Enjolras.”

Enjolras let go of him quickly and he could feel a blush starting to bloom on his face. Grantaire did not seem to notice simply taking a sloppily poured glass of wine from Jehan and passing to Enjolras, to which he gratefully gulped down to hide his face. “And how are you Jehan? Keeping well I assume,” Grantaire said as he took a glass for himself.

“Very well indeed thank you, in fact I daresay I feel an urge to dance coming on,” with that they put down their own empty glass “Can I fancy either of you in a dance?”

“Don’t think I should,” Enjolras said softly placing a hand on his chest to which Jehan nodded their understanding. “Plus we all know I am a truly terrible dancer especially after a glass of wine.”

Jehan nodded gravely “It’s true I don't want to subject anyone here to that,” they patted both of them on the arm before making their way into the crowd.

Grantaire turned and smiled at him, lips looking red from the wine “I would love to see these terrible dance moves of yours.”

Shaking his head and hiding a smile Enjolras said “Trust me if you had any sense you would not, it’s truly awful.” He shuffled his torso uncomfortably, he was starting to feel in pain. Usually the pain wouldn’t be too intense, it was more just a subtle ache that would progress over time in a way that was hard to notice unless you compared point A to point Z. He was starting to feel it though at only nine thirty he already was feeling like he really needed to take his damn binder off. His breathing was undoubtedly shallowing.

Grantaire seemed to notice something because he frowned in confusion “Are you okay?”

Enjolras forced out a smile “Yeah of course,” he knocked back the rest of his wine and asked him “I didn’t know you knew Jehan so well?” Simply to change the subject.

“We bond over books and poetry and stuff, unlike you they actually understand the value of art,” he added teasingly.

“That’s good,” Enjolras said absent mindedly “I’ve always loved Jehan they are a very strong person.”

Grantaire hummed in agreement “I’ve seen them meet someone who believes in gender binaries, trust me I know they can be very strong.”

“I take it you are not one of those people then?” Enjolras asked curiously.

To his surprise Grantaire actually snorts with laughter “Of course not, I know I don’t pay attention in meetings but I’m not completely unaware. I mean I’ll admit any gender and even some sexuality topics were really new to me at first, but you catch on quick when you basically live with two trans people.”

“That doesn’t stop some people from still being bigoted through,” Enjolras says softly.

“I know, I try not to be one of them especially since Joly, Musichetta and Jehan are some of the coolest people I know,” Grantaire stops thoughtfully “I know you think  haven’t gotten anything from being around you guys but you’re wrong, I really have learnt a lot about how to be a better and more knowledgeable person and I appreciate that.”

At this Enjolras felt slightly at a loss of what to say to that “That means a lot to me to hear that.”

Grantaire smiles easily at him “It’s no problem Enjolras.”

Enjolras tried to take in a deeper breath and suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his chest, he gasped in surprise because he had very rarely ever felt pain so intense. Immediately he assumed that he must be dying or something was very wrong with him. Grantaire grabbed his shoulder saying in a panic “Are you okay?”

Enjolras wanted to respond, to lie but he honestly could not “No, I need Combeferre or Courf.”

Grantaire looked around before grabbing someone's elbow “Hey have you seen Ferre or Courf around?”

The guy looked confused, looking at Enjolras who was probably going red and was holding onto his stomach like that was going to help “Uh I think they went out to get more booze like a minute ago, sorry man.” He then proceeded to shrug and walk away.

Enjolras groaned in annoyance, of course this would happen tonight and of course his friends would be gone and he’d be alone with the one person he really didn’t want to have to witness this. Grantaire perhaps mistaking his groan for one of pain said softly to him in a clearly shaky voice “Can you breathe?”

He shook his head.

“Okay okay, shit,” Grantaire was slowly heading them towards the exit and away from the crowd immediately. “Do you know why you can’t breathe?”

Enjolras nodded.

Grantaire frowned “Can you tell me why you can’t breathe?”

Enjolras shook his head “I would prefer not to right now, it’s not anything serious though, probably.” Fuck he really didn’t want to be outed not now not to him.

Grantaire looked incredibly stressed out by everything he was saying which was really not his intention. “Okay what will help you?”

“Get me to my apartment right now, second floor.”

Grantaire didn’t need anymore instruction than that. He helped Enjolras make his way back inside the building and hustled him inside the elevator. Once he did he did what looked like checking Enjolras for any visible stab wounds or anything which made Enjolras simply have to reach out and pat his face, which was maybe a boldness driven by wine. “Seriously Grantaire I’m going to be fine this is nothing serious.”

This still didn’t comfort him at all “Are you having a panic attack?” Which was something that would make sense admittedly.  

“No it’s something else.” His head hurt it felt the way you do when you hold our breath for too long, oxygen deprived. His aching chest was painful as hell but he didn’t want to draw attention to it, hooking his thumbs in a hopefully subtle way underneath to try and relieve the pressure.

The doors opened and they were on the first floor, Enjolras frowned “What the hell,” the doors began to close and he hit the _'2_ ' button again and the doors simply opened back up, still on floor one. “I think the elevator is broken, we’ll have to take the stairs,” He was not pleased by that idea at all and Grantaire did not look like he was either. “I mean it might be dangerous.”

Grantaire nodded in agreement finally but that attitude faded when Enjolras tried to make his way up the first step and he crumbled up as though he was made of paper. He’s never felt so embarrassed but Grantaire did something which seemed to be their only choice. He scooped Enjolras up bridal style and carried him up the stairs. Enjolras had gasped softly in surprise and Grantaire was warm and he smelt like cigarettes which weirdly reminded him of the smell of a bonfire. “What room number are you?” He asked simply with a stoic edge to his jaw and pink on his cheeks. Grantaire was not that much larger than Enjolras at all and he did not eat a lot of protein so this must not be very easy for him, yet he looked like he could probably breathe better than Enjolras could. God it hurt.

Finally the reached his apartment and Grantaire put him down so he could unlock the door. Enjolras didn’t care if he had the twilight saga and dirty underwear lying around in his home, he just turned the light on and made a beeline for the bathroom stripping off his cardigan on the way. He slammed the door shut and began to frantically rip off his shirt, why the fuck had he picked something with so many buttons.  

He had no idea where Grantaire was or if he’d even followed him into the apartment all he could think about is how many articles he’d read about safe binding and how you could break your own ribs. He was an idiot for doing this but he still knew that although he was in pain, it was not a pain greater than dysphoria which makes him unable to leave his home.

And dear god Enjolras finally takes off his binder with an air of victory and and takes in a slow and deep breath. His chest was definitely sore probably bruised but he definitely hadn’t done anything as extreme as breaking a rib. He would probably have to take a break from binding for a couple days which meant he would be house bound. In his relief he sank to his bathroom floor and let out a soft sigh of pure relief.  

Grantaire spoke uneasily from the other side of the door “Everything alright Enjolras?” In his panic he’d almost completely forgot the crucial point that Grantaire was in his home and probably confused and worried and wanting an explanation for this.

“Yes I’m okay now.” He pulled his shirt on but was now faced with a different dilemma of how he could explain this all to Grantaire. The shirt was not really hiding much in itself so he looked in his hamper. He found a smaller sweater there and put it on as well but that also was not improving the situation.

“Enjolras,” he sounded almost strained. “Are you going to come out?” The irony was getting to him he could probably burst out the door singing _‘guess what buddy I don’t have a dick’_ , or at least that's what Courf would want him to do, for the pun alone.

Instead he took his question more literally saying softly “No, just go home Grantaire or back up to the party.” Enjolras was still just sitting on the floor of his bathroom feeling distressed and vulnerable. He went to get his phone to call Combeferre to tell him to get here immediately but it was in the pocket of his cardigan which in his panic he’d thrown to the ground and now was out of his reach. Fuck.

Enjolras heard Grantaire’s knees click as he crouched down outside the door and said softly “What can I do to make you come out of there, apart from fucking off?”

Groaning he said truthfully “My phone, a big sweater, some chinese food, ibuprofen and a glass of wine.”

There was a pause from outside before Grantaire “I can do that.” Enjolras frowned in confusion and there were sound of Grantaire moving around for quite a while before he knocked on the door saying softly “Could you open up just a bit to grab your stuff?”

Enjolras stood slowly which still made his head spin. Making sure his chest was pressed and covered completely by the door so that only part of his face and his arm was visible Enjolras opened up the bathroom door. Grantaire handed him his phone, a tablet of ibuprofen in an empty glass and his own hoodie which was large on Grantaire so it would surely do the job well for him. Enjolras was honestly surprised at how well his instructions had been carried out and just murmured a quick “Thanks” before closing the door quickly again.

First off he filled his glass up with the tap and swallowed the pill, he could dry swallow but it was a gross feeling which he tended to avoid. Next he put on Grantaire’s hoodie, zipping it all the way up to his chin and putting the hood on as well. It worked very well, going just past his butt and it was loose with it’s size in a way that made him feel much more comfortable. Next he texted Combeferre explaining what had happened then slipped his phone into his (or Grantaire’s) pocket.

Grantaire spoke softly “I’m going to look for some cheap wine in your fridge and order some chinese food you can come out if you can but if you can’t I’ll just bring it to you and then leave if that’s really what you want.” He heard Grantaire make his way through the apartment and knew he’d have no trouble. On his fridge he had a list of close fast food delivery services for when he felt unable to leave his house for food (which was most of the time). Inside his fridge he had some broccoli, cheap wine, cheese and maybe some milk but it was probably a little bit old.

Mostly out of all the weird an unfortunate shit that had happened tonight Enjolras just felt shocked at how Grantaire was doing everything he’d asked to try and help him. This made him feel guilty for all he was offering in return was hiding himself away and not telling Grantaire anything.

Enjolras continued to sit embarrassed and upset on his bathroom floor until he started to cry. It surprised some people how easily he cried but really with how deeply Enjolras felt about almost everything it's hardly a surprise that he gets easily emotional. He sat and softly cried to himself feeling miserable in the disaster of his night. Finally he willed himself to rise and get some toilet paper to dry his wet eyes. When he looked in the mirror he saw a mess, red eyes, messy hair and an undeniably uncomfortable posture.

Slowly he willed himself to leave. Throwing his binder in his hamper before turning and slowly opening the door. Grantaire was nowhere to be seen, perhaps in the kitchen still or maybe he left after all. Enjolras slipped into his bedroom turning to his dressing table draws and rummaging through them quickly. He found a very compressing sports bra that he’d bought a long time ago for situations where he couldn’t handle binding anymore but still needed something. It worked pretty well, like an older binder might, a bit stretched out so more comfortable but still actually helping flatten his chest. He changed into it quickly keeping one eye on the door at all times as he did so.

He looked in his bedroom mirror briefly and it definitely made him feel a lot more comfortable with himself. As for the rest of him which looked like a train wreck there was no hope. Admitting his defeat he kicked off his shoes and took his contacts out. The glasses would maybe distract or cover his red eyes from Grantaire if he was still here.

Finally he took a deep breath and made his way into the hallway. It was strange to feel so nervous in his own home where he knew he was safe. When he came into the kitchen Grantaire was not there but the bottle of wine had been opened and his jacket was on one of his dining table’s chairs. He looked into the lounge and Grantaire was there holding some wine and inspecting Enjolras’s bookshelf with a small smile on his lips.

Grantaire looked up in surprise at his presence and he could see the worry manifest between his eyebrows as he took in his mangled appearance. Enjolras did not want to speak he felt to fragile for it, he simply stared at Grantaire trying to ask him with his eyes, ‘why are you here still?’ ‘why do you even care?’

“The chinese food will be here in ten minutes,” Grantaire said softly running a hand through his hair which was something Enjolras knew he did when he was nervous.

Enjolras finally spoke, the words coming off much more broken than he intended “Why are you helping me when I’m being so rude to you?”

The question seemed to surprise Grantaire and he replied “You’re not being rude-”

“I won’t tell you what going on-” Enjolras started but Grantaire interrupted.

“I don’t need to know if you don’t want to tell me. As long as you’re okay that’s what matters. Plus you were there when I needd help so why can’t I be there for you in return?” Grantaire looked daring as if imploring Enjolras to question such sound logic. He moved closer to Enjolras and said a little gentler “I understand being stubborn and not wanting people's help and not wanting to tell people what's wrong Enjolras. It’s alright I’m still going to try and help you if that’s what you need.”

Enjolras felt strangely emotional about that saying softly “I’m sorry for being so stubborn it’s just not something I like to discuss with a lot of people.”

Grantaire frowned slightly “Why not?”

  
“A lot of people who I thought cared for me have reacted badly in the past,” this was verging too close to the subject and he suddenly said “You should not be drinking, but I most certainly should be,” with that he stole the half empty wine glass of Grantaire and drank out of it deeply himself.

“You have a book on art,” Grantaire says as he watches him drink. “You don’t care about this sort of art?”

He was referring of course to the book on Impressionism and Post-Impressionism that he’d gotten a day after Jehans poetry reading where they had debated art together and Grantaire had told him he didn’t understand, with true passion in his eyes for the first time. Enjolras wanted to get closer to that emotion in Grantaire’s eyes to understand what drove it, to understand why he loved that art so much. “I was curious to why you love it so much,” he admits hesitantly.

Grantaire looks very surprised and he felt a little bit honoured that Enjolras would even care for his opinion that much. “To really understand you should really go see them for yourself, in the galleries.”

Enjolras shrugs “I don’t think I would understand it though just looking at them.”

“Maybe I’ll be your art history tour guide then,” Grantaire half teased.

But Enjolras lit up at the idea “Would you? Would you take me and show me why you love them so much?”

Quite surprised at this response Grantaire replies “Of course I would.”

To interrupt the moment the doorbell rang and Enjolras jumped slightly, looking towards the door then back at Grantaire “Would you mind getting it?” Grantaire simply nodded then went to the door. He returned in a moment and set the food at the dining table. Enjolras hesitantly moved closer and set his wineglass on the table as well, he watched the condensation mark the wood instead of look up at Grantaire. After a moment he sat down still watching the glass and chewing on his lip.

Grantaire followed his lead sitting down and he said softly “I will leave if that’s what you want.” Enjolras looked up to him and he was also keeping his eyes down. With how closed off and upset Enjolras has been perhaps the thinks that he does want him to leave but Enjolras doesn’t feel like that’s really what he wants after all.

“You should stay,” he says softly and Grantaire looks up to meet his eyes finally. Enjolras feels like doing something stupid like touching his face or kissing him. He forced his eyes away from his lips which were slightly chapped and red from wine. “I’m sorry, for all of this.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” Grantaire tells him with a shake of his head.

But Enjolras shook hisown head more firmly “No there is, I don't want you to leave and I’m sorry for freaking you out and for ruining your night.”

Grantaire smiled “Who says anything has to be ruined?” He reached out to the food and starts to open it, and that’s when Enjolras notices for the first time that Grantaire is only wearing a t-shirt. It isn’t too unusual that Grantaire is always covered up in layers since Paris was still for the most part quite cold but Enjolras now realises that perhaps there were other reasons to that as well. Laced up Grantaire’s arms were cuts varying from thin and faded to thicker, the thing that worried Enjolras the most was that some of them did not look particularly old at all. In the crook of his elbow there were some words tattooed in a language he did not understand. Grantaire handed him his food and seemed to realise that he was being watched. Pointing out someone's scars was not a nice thing to do and Enjolras had not intended to say anything and he felt terrible to be caught in what must look like just openly staring.

“Sorry,” he said quickly for what felt like a thousandth time tonight. “Sorry I don’t, I mean I don’t want you to think I was judging you or anything.”

To his surprise Grantaire shrugged unaffected, using a plastic fork to scoop up some noodles “I wouldn't blame you if you did plenty of people do.”

“But that’s not okay,” Enjolras said with a frown. “I would never judge someone for being in pain.”

Grantaire just shrugged again. “Lot’s of people don’t really understand it I guess. Or they’re concerned like Joly was. I thought he might start crying it was horrifying.”

“It's just because he loves you,” Enjolras looks down at his unopened food. “It’s always upsetting to see someone you love unhappy and in pain.”

He looked up at Enjolras and said softly “You were in pain tonight, and obviously unhappy or upset about it even though I don’t know why.” Enjolras stilled. “I don’t need an explanation just like you don’t expect me to explain why I have these scars but I think you need to realise all the love you feel towards others also is felt towards you.”

“I’m trans,” he said quickly, it left him in a breath so fast he got whiplash from his own statement. Grantaire put his fork down and looked up at him in surprise. “I don’t tell a lot of people, and I’d prefer it if you kept it to yourself.”

“Of course,” Grantaire agreed quickly.

“It was just,” Enjolras paused, he didn’t know how much Grantaire knew about this sort of stuff. “I had been wearing my binder for too long and it started to hurt me,” Grantaire nodded thoughtfully. “But I’ll be fine it wasn’t anything serious.”

“That’s good,” Grantaire said solemnly. Enjolras was shuffling his feet together, he’d never told anybody on a whim before and it was making in scared. “I won’t tell anyone Enjolras, of course not. I’ll admit it surprises me that you want to keep this from people, you seem so proud of your identity.”

“But other people may not be. I trust my friends but if I tell them all then its bond to become public information, Marius alone cannot keep a secret no matter how had he tries. I’m not ashamed that I‘m trans I am just realistic about how some people can react. I mean I’m confident in the fact that I’m a man but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard to hear people tell me otherwise.” Enjolras was trying hard to explain what he meant but this was a conversation he hadn’t had with a cis person for quite a while. “My own parents disowned me when I started taking hormones, it’s hard to move past that.”

Grantaire looked horrified at that. “That’s terrible, you’re like the coolest person in the world their kid could have been a drug dealer they should learn to get some fucking perspective.” Enjolras could feel his cheeks going pink but Grantaire didn’t seem to even notice that he’d so blatantly complimented him in his anger. “I don’t care if your parents have their heads so far up their asses that they can’t understand you but you’re a man and they can’t change that.”

Enjolras looked up at Grantaire’s dark eyes and felt like his own were starting to prickle again. For all the terrible things Grantaire had been through he had not turned bitter or unkind. He was perhaps one of the kindest men Enjolras knew. He moved forwards, no idea what he was doing but just overwhelmed with the urge to hug him and Grantaire made a noise of surprise and he lunged into his arms. There was a moment of hesitation before Grantaire put his arms around him and held tight. “Thank you,” he whispered into his shoulder breathlessly. Grantaire was warm and he rubbed Enjolras’s back soothingly and Enjolras felt his eyes starting to water again. The smell of bonfire was filling his senses.

Enjolras moved back slightly to say something but was suddenly unable to, Grantaire was so kind and beautiful and right here, so close their noses were almost touching. Enjolras moved forwards towards his lips and Grantaire did as well their noses knocking together.

“Enjolras?” Combeferre’s voice came through the apartment sounding worried and Enjolras shot up from his spot practically in Grantaire’s lap looking startled. Combeferre entered the room and was met with the sight of Grantaire looking completely bewildered and Enjolras with wet eyes and a red face. “Is everything okay…?”

“Yes, yes everything is great,” Enjolras says quickly.

Grantaire looked between the two of them and said “I’ll go,” and with that he rose and grabbed his jacket and fled.


	13. Seven Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard not to fall in love with somehow who you bare your soul to and they do the same in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: coming out as trans, binding, past abuse, medication, pedophilia with the mention of gauguin, anxiety, dysphoria in the past, top surgery, depression, past suicide attempts (this is talked about in reasonable detail but it's not too heavy, just be careful), past self harm, being evicted

Grantaire fled into the night and his head was spinning as if he had stood too quickly and the sensation clinged to him for a long time after he had left Enjolras’s building. Finding his way in the almost darkness over to his side of town took him a long time, perhaps an hour and his feet had started to ache. Still so occupied in his own thoughts the ache was hardly even noticeable to him. 

Enjolras was a private person, Grantaire knew that very well but it was almost as if the circumstances of their relationship were flipped for once, Enjolras being the vulnerable one. The only matter that surprised Grantaire was how Enjolras kept the fact he was trans from his friends, especially considering that he would most certainly die at gunshot for every single one of them. But Grantaire understands too well how if feels to be hurt by someone you trusted, it makes an impact. An impact like a meteor on the moon, visible from miles away, running deep, constructing your basic complexion after a time. 

With both Joly and Musichetta being trans, and being some of the people he was closest to he was hardly ignorant, or at least he sincerely hopes. He’ll admit that he doesn’t know much about binding however, since Musichetta is a trans woman and Joly was able to have top surgery at only sixteen because he had very supportive parents and a good medical plan. Grantaire was going to have to do some research. 

Joly did not speak much about being trans but at the same time he didn’t hide it. His gender identity was self described as “Like orbiting around being a boy, like a moon. Oh man I’m a moon that’s cool.” In Grantaire’s library of knowledge he defiantly understood pronouns, the harmfulness of misgendering, and bathroom struggles since Jehan had sighed sadly and explained that particular ideal to him one day. Jehan and him took to each other immediately, at first Grantaire had been bewildered how to even address the poet, but Jehan made it very clear. They and them pronouns only and gender neutral terminology. Which again made them quite different from Enjolras.

Grantaire was definitely going to have to get near a computer at some point. He hopes Enjolras didn’t think that he fled so quickly because he told him that he was trans, he should definitely text him. The only reason Grantaire had run away was because he was suffering what he referred to personally as severe emotional whiplash. One second he felt such compassion and sympathy for Enjolras being made to feel like not telling his loved ones was his only option, and the next he had arms full (and a _lap_ full) of Enjolras. This wasn’t only shocking because of Grantaire’s probably enormous budding crush on him but also because Enjolras was not particularly “touchy” with anybody. 

And then there was the small matter that Enjolras had leaned in to kiss him. 

Internalising that situation was going to take a while. Honestly he would convince himself that he’d imagined it all if not for the fact that he could easily recount every second of it. It had felt like someone had lit his insides on fire and at the same time he’d never felt so good. Underlying that was some guilt however. Although Enjolras was the one to move in first (because god knows Grantaire was not bold enough for that sort of behaviour) but Enjolras had some wine and was upset, it wasn’t appropriate for Grantaire to be unable to resist moving in as well. 

Yeah he owned Enjolras a lot of apologies, but he figures he would wait until morning so Enjolras could have time to think and hopefully feel better. Grantaire had certainly not missed how red his eyes were, how upset he had been over the entire situation at first.

Grantaire was going to make this right. 

~~~

Enjolras could never make this right. 

He was basically pacing up and down his living room pulling out his golden curls as Combeferre tried to rationalise with him. Enjolras could not force the words ‘I tried to kiss him’ out but instead just kept saying “I told him, I told him, I told him.” 

Combeferre finally got tired of trying to talk to someone who was clearly not paying attention and reached out for Enjolras. He snagged his arm and said calmly “Enjolras stop moving for a second please,” he did letting his other hand fall from its place stressfully running through his hair, perhaps he’d caught that habit off Grantaire. “How did he react?”

Enjolras could feel his much smaller hands shake as Combeferre took them and held them firmly in his own, anchoring. “He… I mean he took it well, quite well.”

“Then why are you so panicked, he would never hurt you Enjolras, I don’t think Grantaire would ever have that in him, certainly not towards you.” Combeferre’s hands were warm and dark, like Grantaire’s eyes. 

Enjolras just shook his head “I don't, I can’t Combeferre.”

They looked at each other for a long time before Combeferre spoke softly “I love you as if you were my own brother and it hurts me to see you so distressed Enjolras. If there is something bad he did you’re not telling me…?”

Enjolras shook his head “No he did nothing wrong, I think I was the one who did something foolish.”

Combeferre said assuredly “Whatever it is I can guarantee you won’t be as bad as you believe it to be, okay?”

“Okay.”

Guided down onto the couch next to Combeferre Enjolras let out a tired sigh, the whole ordeal had been extremely exhausting. “Have you eaten any of this?” Combeferre asks referring to the chinese food on his dining table. 

“Barely.”

“And how is your chest, do we need to go to the hospital or the doctors tomorrow?”

He let out a soft sigh “No I’m fine really, I think I panicked a lot which didn’t help but now it feels less painful for sure. I think it will just bruise badly.” 

In the other room Combeferre hummed thoughtfully as he collects up the abandoned meal. “You need to take better care of yourself if you're going to be having top surgery within the next month or two Enjolras, seriously you need to cut back on doing those extreme hours.” He comes back into the room handing him a plastic fork and food. 

“Yeah I know ‘Ferre it’s just a little easier said than done.”

Combeferre nodded sympathetically “Yes it most certainly is, I’m going to have to go back up to the party but Jehan is coming down to keep you company if that’s okay?”

Enjolras was about to say that of course that was okay when he was for the third time interrupted by someone coming into his apartment. _“Helloo,”_ Jehan’s voice floated through the apartment, when they enter the living room they look around in confusion and dismay “Where has  _ mon petit _ Grantaire gone to?”

Enjolras shrugged and tried to make it look like he wasn’t to upset about it (in which he did not succeed.) “I don’t know he took off.” Enjolras felt strange like he’d been abandoned on a date and now his parents were trying to comfort him, like he was in some strange sitcom world. 

Jehan made sympathetic tutting noises “He was fine though?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said tiredly. 

“Well that’s marvelous, Grantaire is a sweetheart and _ I amore lui _ _,_ ” Jehan sat down next to Enjolras happily, and the carelessness of their actions made him think that within the short space of time that had passed they had probably had a lot more wine. 

“I didn’t know you and Grantaire got along so well?” Enjolras questioned as Ferre quietly let himself out with a wave.

“Oh yes since we are both reasonably art based students we see each other around a lot at school, besides he’s the only one who understands any of my poetry references. He told me he had a Plath quote tattooed on him and when I said I did as well it was history from there.” Jehan smiled. “He’s very sad yet also marvelously and wildly joyous it’s confusing. I cannot help but feel sympathy that he doesn’t want fro me, for who could hurt such a gentle person?”

That was something Enjolras himself had questioned for a long time “A monster, I can think of no other explanation.”

Jehan looks sad at that however. “Yet he hurts himself so determinedly even after escaping two separate houses of horror, so would that not make him a monster too? Is it considered the same thing?”

He didn’t like to think that it would be. “Of course not, if anything he hurts himself because other have hurt him first and made him feel so worthless. They are the ones at fault, he is a victim and nothing else.” Swinging their feet up and into Enjolras's lap they hum in agreement, Enjolras eats carefully not wanting to get food on Jehan’s dress. “Does Grantaire tell you things?”

They look thoughtful “I suppose, not much but even so it would probably be considered a plentiful amount for Grantaire wouldn’t it?”

Enjolras smiled ruefully “Yeah.” 

“He told me,” Jehan pauses. “He told me about his old life, not much. Just how he had someone who abused him, someone who did not care for yes or no. Somebody terrible. I commend him for escaping that.”

“So do I,” Enjolras admits. 

“He will keep your secret and any other you hold,” Jehan said softly running a hand against Enjolras’s messy hair. “He will protect you because he knows the value of it, and I expect you will do the same.”

“Yes.”

~~~

It was a day later and Grantaire was three hours into his research. Joly was playing with Hestia, the youngest of his cats who was in that strange transitional stage from kitten to cat. Teenage years were hard for everyone, not just humans. Joly provided answers and also served to correct different things. There was a lot of outdated information on the internet. 

He’d started with wikipedia because that’s what anybody does when they want to learn something. From there he found several trans men websites, which led him to tumblr which alone took about an hour and a half with all the available information. Tumblr led him to youtube where he watched people's experiences, documentaries (which Joly corrected when they were so very often incorrect) and they most importantly led him to videos on allyship and on being a good friend to a trans person. He absorbed all the information enjoying the learning experience and also being able to not feel like he was going to inadvertently do something wrong. After learning more about binding he was horrified and set a string of alarmed texts to Enjolras before he could think twice about it. 

To Enj;

_wtf?? binding is kinda wacked up this shit looks painful_

To Enj;

_ “on the plus side this one makes u feel slightly LESS like ur being pressed to death.” bro _

To Enj;

_what the hell have u seen this john oliver segment_

To Enj;

_ seroisuly do u bind everyday?/ thats terrifying how fucking strong ur ribcage must be _

To Enj;

_ also sorry for like bailign out on you the other day!! i wanst freaking out i promise. ok idk i was,, but not abt this stuff its all gd. dont wnt u to worry _

Grantaire put his phone aside and wondered what else he should google while he still had custody on Joly’s laptop. “Joly have I missed anything?”

Joly looked up unimpressed, he volunteered to help him but after an hour he informed Grantaire he was being “a bit excessive.” So Joly blew out a long breath “No I think you’ve covered it R, seriously.”

“I just don’t wanna miss anything vital.”

Joly rested his chin on his hand where he was lying on the bed “Why are you putting so much trouble into this, you never went on a googling spree for the rest of us.”

“Okay first of all I definitely did at the school library it was incredibly lame and embarrassing but I needed the help. Secondly it's just because he’s not out and has had some bad shit happen to him so what am I meant to do? Just fumble around the subject until I evidently fuck up?”

He was smiling “That’s so _cuute_ ,” Joly flopped on the bed and the cat got startled and moved over to behind Grantaire. “Can I be your best man when you guys get married?”

Grantaire looked up unimpressed “Shut up you dork.” Before considering for a second. “Only if I get to be _your_ best man.”

Hestia flew off the bed at the speed of light with how loud Joly squealed in glee “Um yes obviously, does this mean you guys are dating? Or are you still doing your awkward flirting thing?”

He could _feel_ his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion “Um we are definitely not dating and there has been no “awkward flirting” Joly. Primarily because there is no flirting at all but also because I’m smooth as hell.”

“You tell yourself that Grantaire, you tell yourself that.”

His phone vibrated angrily from under his thigh and Grantaire dug it out to see an assortment of new texts from Enjolras. 

To, Grantaire;

_ yeah it kinda sucks big time but u d what u have to at least i ahve a proper binder and can afford top surgery soon _

To, Grantaire;

_yes ive seen john olivers segment who do u think i am_

To, Grantaire;

_ its fine abt the other day i get it do u want to go somewhere _

Enjolras’s texts were hard to read sometimes because he ever used any form of punctuation whatsoever which was strange, Grantaire when he first met him would have pegged him for the sort of person to get angry about grammar and shit. 

To, enj;

_ Where do u wanna go 2? _

To, Grantaire;

_ a gallery idk what ones are good i mean i knwo the famous ones but ur the art master u can decide _

To, enj;

_for an art virgin i’d say Muse D’Orsay, u would prbably jsut get lost in the lourve no offence._

To, Grantaire;

_...fair enough_

To, Grantaire;

_ tomorrow at around one good for you? _

To; enj

_perfect_

“Is that him?” Jolys smug voice broke the spell.

“When are one of the three of you gonna propose?” Grantaire counters insead not caring much for discussing this now. 

Joly looks thoughtful “I don’t know I always thought Musichetta would but that was about a year ago so I’m getting to the point where I’m gonna have to ask them. I mean we talk about marriage and we want to, it just hasn’t happened yet,” he does not look very bothered besides this. “But it’s okay, when the time comes it will and until then I’m very happy.” Joly stands and stretches “Come on you your eyes will turn square, Enjolras will not be turned on by that.”

Grantaire had managed to convince himself he did not care what Enjolras found attractive. But by the next day Grantaire burst into the apartment saying “I literally live in a trash can and I have no clothes.” He spent an hour staring at the two pairs of jeans he owns and the one ratty jacket before deciding he needed drastic help. 

Musichetta looked at him unimpressed “Tell a girl something she doesn’t know.”

Grantaire looks around in confusion “Where are Joly and Bossuet?”

“Out. What’s made you suddenly realise the tragedy that is your wardrobe situation.”

“I’d need to have a wardrobe first Musichetta, just help me will you.”

She gave him a look before sighing “Come on then.”

~~~

Enjolras took out his medication from its weekly organiser and swallowed them. Two for anxiety, and a multivitamin that Combeferre had forced upon him when he saw the state of Enjolras’s diet. He places an eraser in its place each day, just to assure himself he took it or he hasn’t skipped a day. It wasn’t a system with much logic but it still assured him. 

He was very strangely nervous. It wasn’t the tell tale anxiety crawling down his throat and to his lungs but instead his stomach was dancing. An awkward and nervous sort of Enjolras dance. The only thing he wanted is for Grantaire to not be mad, or weirded out. For if that were to happen Enjolras would perhaps go down to the Louvre and intentionally lose himself, wasting away in a more well lit and decorated version of the Paris catacombs. 

Getting dressed every day used to be a very difficult task for him especially in his teenage years when nobody respected him and he was misgendered constantly. It was a submergence into dysphoria to the point of suffocation and he had gotten to the point where he could not leave his house. All he would do was lie in bed talking to Combeferre online and wish that one day the incredible torture would come to an end. 

Looking through his clothes he took a strange amount of precision into what he was going to wear. The weather has been slowly warming, hesitantly as if testing out what it means to not be cold. Without wanting to he spent about an hour trying on everything he owned which was stupid as hell because he ended up just putting on a pair of black jeans and a sweatshirt but it was certainly the most effort he had put into his own appearance for quite a while. 

His hair was a strange texture since he was mixed race and it fell usually in loose curls. The longer he had it the looser the curls got however so with it almost to his shoulders if he wore it that way it was a perfect in between for him. Just before he turned eighteen he cut all his hair off by himself and dear god was it curly. Since then with being more secure in his own masculinity he was able to grow it out a bit. It was a beautiful golden colour that he had perfected over the years, and his roots were always rowing back in but he didn’t mind too much.  

Overall his appearance was something he had worked for but he was beginning to like, and with that he grabbed his bag, checking its contents and left to meet Grantaire. 

~~~

They met outside and exchanged brief hellos and shy smiles before making their way inside. Immediately Enjolras was greeted with the sight of many marble sculptures, mostly white but some also a deep black. The amount of artwork seemed overwhelming, “Where should we start?” He questions simply because he honestly has no idea. 

Now inside Enjolras looks at him properly and Grantaire looks a lot more put together than his usual appearance. His hair tied up and secured with an actual hair tie instead of a stray rubber band (or a piece of string he “found in his art room.”) A leather jacket and a tshirt that so far only appeared to have very minimal amounts of paint on it. Not that Enjolras minded his usually disheveled appearance it was oddly endearing when it wasn’t slightly worrying and he actually enjoyed how Grantaire’s possessions were so often scattered in paint, or how he seemed to even use his jeans as an easel. 

Grantaire hummed at his question “I’ll take you through the good stuff, some of this shit you won’t like, and the rest of it I will make you like.” He grinned before leading him around, tourists and babbling french men walked around them, photos being taken as if they were surrounded by extreme art paparazzi. 

And Grantaire talked, lord did he talk about that art, in fact it was certainly the most he’s ever heard Grantaire speak at all. His face was animated and he would just nod sagely “This guy was a dick you have no idea.” At one point Enjolras saw so pacific women and intrigued by finally seeing some women of colour he questioned what they were about. 

“Gauguin ugh, trust me I know you're looking for representation but it’s in the wrong place. He was a shady old bloke who buggered off to an island to have a fourteen year old lover when he was about fifty, fucking gross.”

Naturally that recoiled him from wanting to look at the artwork and Enjolras turned away in disgust. “How can a pedofile be an acclaimed artist in twenty fifteen when women who are amazing at art now can hardly reach the same status?”

“Internalised prejudices,” Grantaire answered and for once he didn’t look like he was joking. “It’s rubbish trust me, women Impressionist’s couldn’t even go out without her husband you can imagine how much that restricts your ability to produce masterpieces, I mean I didn’t see Monet take his wife out into the country every time he had the urge to paint.” Grantaire just shakes his head and leads them up a set of stairs. 

Enjolras smiles despite himself. 

As they make their way up Grantaire turns twice to make sure Enjolras was okay which considering the last time they went up a flight of stairs together was fair enough but still a bit unnecessary. “Grantaire I’m not going to faint this time.”

They reach the second floor and Grantaire looks a little embarrassed “Sorry, after I learnt more about binders I only became more worried to be honest.”

“Fair enough,” Enjolras admits. “They are not ideal.”

Grantaire starts to ask something but hesitates before after a moment asks. “Are you getting top surgery?”

“Soon, I just need about a thousand more dollars for travel cost and whatnot which I’m struggling to come up with.”  

There was a slight frown of confusion on Grantaire’s face. “I didn’t think you had a job? Also how far do you have to travel to get it, I though Paris as our capital would surely provide that?”

“Sadly it does not. I would have to travel down to near Toulouse in the far south. It’s closer to go to Ghent in Belgium, plus the surgeon there is one of the best.” They were wandering idly and very slowly together as Enjolras explained. “And I write articles online for money and I um,” Enjolras stopped face heating up.

Grantaire looked at him in confusion “What’s wrong Enj?”

A small part of Enjolras’s brain was just thinking, _did he just call me Enj??_ But the functional part said, “Okay I haven’t told anyone this, but before I started hormone therapy and my parents cut me off I asked for a car for my birthday. I told them that I would buy one when I moved into my apartment and was living safely in Paris because it would simply be more convenient, but I uh,” He squirmed because this wasn’t exactly something he was _proud_ of although it would be a stretch to say he is ashamed. “I kind of never bought a car at all and that is where I got the bulk of my money for surgery.”

Besides Enjolras’s shame Grantaire looked elated “Let me get this straight, you cunningly lied and stole from your rich, transphobic parents to do the one thing they specifically never wanted you to do, and you’re gonna do it with their money?” He blew out a breath of air. “That’s kind of fucking amazing.” He proceeded to let out a burst of laughter. “Like you get that’s literally the coolest thing I’ve ever heard?”

It was hard to decide to be flattered or to roll his eyes. 

Their slow wandering had lead them to a blue walled hallway of rooms. Grantaire reached out and took his arm saying excitedly “I’m sorry Enjolras your status for the gem of Paris has been stolen by another man, and so has my heart for centuries.”

The work was familiar even with Enjolras’s limited knowledge, he was in a blue room, wooden floors, glorious frames, and pieces of famous and priceless Van Gogh artwork. “I kind of half brought you here for this I’m not going to lie, this is one of my favourite places in the city,” Grantaire admitted. 

With This the tour was on its way Grantaire led Enjolras around speaking with a hushed voice as if he was in a holy space, as if he was in prayer. He explained the colours and the stories behind each work as people milled around them, posing in front of the art, staring at it and moving along. It seemed like a congregation what they were doing and Enjolras fell into it without a protest. 

Almost at the end he could tell that they had reached an important painting for Grantaire, his eyes went to it immediately and he looked entranced. Enjolras recognised the portrait because he had seen it taped onto Grantaire’s wall. “This is the first Van Gogh painting I ever saw, infact the the first painting I ever saw at all in my memory.” They walked towards it, Vincents baby blue eyes beckoning them closer. “As I grew up I saw something others were ignoring in it, I see it in Starry Night or Wheatfield with Crows but it’s so strong for me here.”

“What do you see?” Enjolras was whispered pressed close to Grantaire’s side completely entranced by Grantaire’s words. 

“I see myself.” It was so simple but Enjolras looked for it now he knew that Grantaire was there in the pastel blue swirls. “Where else do I see a man who never loved himself or his work. Where else do I see a man struggling with mental illness. Where else do I see this not discounted or seen as a horror if not by his own hands? Other people for years see the mentally ill as sick and broken. Do you see sick and broken Enjolras?”

“No,” he answered honestly.

“There may be a torrent of blue coursing around him, flowing into him even taking over his life but he is sure. His eyes stare at us unashamed of his own torment or his own illness. I see someone drowning but looking at the horizon. Never in a million essays could I summarize the total of my feelings. He isn’t lying about the fact he’s ill, but he’s not broken or weak and refuses to be broken for us to understand.”

How do you respond to that, Enjolras is struck with nothing to possibly follow such a beautiful statement with. He looks up at Grantaire admitting softly. “That’s beautiful R.”

He simply shrugs in response finally looking away from the painting and down at Enjolras. “Lets go chill out by the gift store it's nice over there.”

“Alright,” he agreed easily. They wandered over to where there was a large window and carpeted floor and sat down against the window looking into the room that they came from with the gift store behind them. It was nice to see people walking about and laughing and discussing things together. A couple walk hand and hand and look at each other like they are the most beautiful thing in the room. Enjolras looks away.

“Do you want to talk about the other night or are we gonna just awkwardly avoid it forever? Either is good with me,” Grantaire had shed off his jacket and looked for the most part, very calm here. 

Enjolras sighed “I don’t know. I don’t really know what to say about it at all.” He was surprised slightly that Grantaire had brought up the subject even though he supposes it was one of the reasons they needed to talk with one another, he wishes they were still talking about art. 

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire said slowly. “Even though nothing happened you were upset and had some wine and it was not okay.”

The fact that Grantaire was apologising was confusing as hell even though he supposes the reasons why made some sense. “No it’s fine, you seriously did nothing wrong I mean because you didn’t really do anything at all. If anything it’s my fault for acting so carelessly to how you were feeling.”

At this Grantaire snorted with laughter. “Trust me it was fine Enjolras, very very fine.”

“It was still insensitive and I’m sorry.” He pressed. 

“Okay I forgive you Enjolras although I still don’t think there is anything to forgive.” Grantaire looked sad or something similar, staring at the dark carpet. 

“Why do you look as though I’ve told you that Christmas is cancelled Grantaire? Apologies are meant to make you feel better not worse,” he attempted to keep his voice light but he was upset over the idea that he had made anything surrounding the situation worse. 

Grantaire looked at him and rolled his eyes “You don’t generally want to be apologised to after someone almost kissed you, that sort of gives you the impression it was a mistake does it not?”

And now they were not skirting around the subject like shy children because they were adults and they should be able to discuss this as such. “It is not my intention to make you feel poorly, it has nothing to do with how I feel about you, only the circumstances in which it occurred.” Enjolras considers it and admits to Grantaire, “Under different circumstances there would be no apology Grantaire but for this one I feel it’s appropriate.”

Hesitantly he smiled at Grantaire and he smiled back just as shyly “Perhaps one day we can stumble upon one of these such circumstances?”

Enjolras could feel his face light up despite himself “Yes perhaps we will.” He thought for a moment. “But firstly you have not explained to me some of the art here, what about the art of Grantaire? Jehan has mentioned your tattoos, and since you have such amazing sense in art I assume they are amazing.”

“You would naturally be assuming correctly,” he says with a smile. He shifts slightly, turning his head and bending his ear back. “Eponine did this one for me when we were about sixteen maybe younger I’m not sure. It was my first tattoo.” Behind his ear rests a small constellation with three points. “It’s the constellation Pictor, which means painter or painters easel. It really hurt, like a lot and it was Eponine who thought of it. She didn’t tell me what she was doing until after it was finished. But I trusted her.”

Next he rolls up his sleeve to reveal on his shoulder a map of Paris, curling from his back around to his chest. “I got this one when I came here. I didn’t have a lot of money but Eponine had a friend who gave me enough of a discount that I could get it. I was working as a cleaner for a shopping mall at this time as well so I managed to scrape enough money together.” It was simplistic with the river being a soft blue and the rest of the streets and buildings being in a black outline.

“Why did you decide to get Paris?” Enjolras asks, to tattoo a place you had only lived in for such a short time seemed slightly without logic. 

“I was born in Paris,” he says “I’m not sure why my family moved away I just know that’s what it says on my birth certificate. It’s where I was born and it's where I escaped a life of misery. Even though life isn’t perfect it’s good to remind myself that I am constantly reborn in a new city that is full of much more opportunity and kindness then where I came from.” 

He moved on to his bicep where there are a set of roman numerals, three of them and then three again below. Grantaire hesitates slightly. “These are two dates in my life which were about as shit as it gets but it’s always good to remember where you come from as I said. These were Eponine’s idea again.”

“What-” Enjolras hesitates, “If you don’t mind my asking, what are the dates?”

The last thing Enjolras wanted to do was offend Grantaire but he didn’t look offended simply a bit hesitant, worried. “The first is May eleventh when I was sixteen, almost seventeen. That was uh,” he trails his hand down further down to his wrists where there are small scars in pink or white on his forearms but by his wrists they are predominantly covered by a harsher although older looking cut. Enjolras realises what the date means. “Yeah that was the first time, the neighbour found me and I got taken out of my mothers care and put in foster care and a lot of therapy.” 

“Did you like your foster family?”

“Very much,” he admits. “Seventeen was the one really good year for me, I was on antidepressants and able to do art and dancing, it was safe there.” He seems to remember then that the date is not alone. “The second date is, shit I don’t even know sometime in the winter when I was about nineteen I think. That was bad.”

“Why, I mean you don’t have to tell me I just don’t understand I guess. Why you would want to immortalize such painful days on your skin.”

Grantaire nodded in agreement then however. “That’s what I believed as well, but Eponine she,” he thought for a moment piecing his thoughts together. “I decided I could never be happy in my life and in my boyfriends house I took a handful of pills. Eponine found me on the kitchen floor when I wouldn’t pick up the phone, I was pretty far gone. After that she told me Alec would never see me again, she got my things and told me to escape with her to Paris. For such a long time I couldn't and I was scared and ashamed of what I had done. But Eponine told me that I shouldn’t be shamed because each of these days show that I’m strong and that no matter how terrible shit gets I can move on.” 

Enjolras knows that if he cries it would embarrass him but he still felt his eyes sting. “I’m glad you’re not ashamed anymore.”

“So am I,” he admits. He shows both his forearms and on one he has a small tattoo of the Michelangelo hands touching painting which Enjolras can’t remember the name of. “I got this one at eighteen, my first legal tattoo.” On the other arm there are words which Enjolras had seen the other night. “That’s a quote by Sylvia Plath who’s a poet.”

“What does it say?” he asks in wonder not quite able to make out the words, moving closer. 

“ _ ‘For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge/ For the hearing of my heart’ _ it’s from lady lazarus which is my favourite of her poems.” 

“It’s nice,” Enjolras says despite his lack of knowledge about poetry. “It seems appropriate.”

He smiles in return “Yeah that’s what I figured.”

“Have you got anything else?”

I have the word _“grow”_ on my knee which is a stick and poke I did myself but I’m in jeans so I’m not gonna strip in a public place.” A shame “But that’s it for the art of monsieur Grantaire, unfortunately there isn’t a gift shop.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes “Yeah too bad.”

“We can however go look at the actual gift shop,” he offered nodding towards an array of postcards and other assorted souvenirs. 

“That sounds good to me.”

~~~~

Grantaire was walking home with a bag at his side and the other hand inside his jacket from Musichetta. Enjolras had insisted on buying him something for his troubles and his art commentary which really was not necessary. Nevertheless Enjolras wasn't a person you said no to.

By the time he’d reached his apartment he just felt exhausted on a mental and physical level. He had been practicing with Cosette often as they could manage and his muscles were aching almost every day from lack of use although they were doing it less now. 

The emotional exhaustion of being with Enjolras all day was just as painful but in a more pleasant way. It wasn’t that being with him was hard, in fact it was enjoyable and even relaxing to spend time with someone who he enjoyed the company of so much. The conversations being held themselves were slightly taxing but that was okay, they were conversations he did not mind having and indeed needed to have with the people he loves. Loves. There arises another problem. It’s hard not to fall in love with somehow who you bare your soul to and they do the same in return. 

There was a piece of paper taped to his door. 

His thoughts were drawn away from thoughts of Enjolras by the offending item. He took it in his hands and almost dropped it when he made out the final word, a death sentence. Evicted. 

Surely it couldn’t be happening. Even though he’d known this was a possibility for so long he didn’t think it would actually happen. Somehow with shaky hands Grantaire made his way into his apartment and hit the light switch only to find they had turned off his power. Jesus Christ this could not be happening. 

He went down the to lobby in shock and the lightbulb flickered as he found the manager. He was a short man with a beer belly and a balding head turning through a magazine. “Excuse me,” the man looked up looking displeased and disinterested. “I was just told I have to leave my apartment, and uh why the hell do I have to leave?”

“What your name?” He asks turning around and grabbing a thick booklet. 

“Grantaire,” he shuffled nervous on his feet as the Manager flicks through the pages.

“Ah yes I see,” he looked up without a trace of sympathy in his voice. “You can never keep up with rent.”

“But I-”

“We aren’t a charity if you can’t pay you gotta be out within seven days.” He closed the book with an air of finality but this shitty apartment was the only thing keeping Grantaire off the streets.

“That’s crap, there are people in here who are blatant drug dealers and you aren’t evicting them!” Grantaire felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

The Manager leaned in close and his breath was like smoke “Yeah but the drug dealers pay rent on time. Seven days and the room is devoid of any trace you were there.” With that he truly was done and closed his door in Grantaire’s face. 

Seven days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a pretty heavy chapter sorry omg.  
> also i know that at the gallery there would be a massive line bc i had to wait in that line but like its fanfic the rules of the real world don't matter.   
> discussion of grantaire's mental illness is very important in this but i hope everyone heeded the warnings and were careful  
> thanks to anyone who gives some love. it helps me not feel like this is just a trash pile haha


End file.
